The Prisoner With No Name
by Virginia
Summary: There is a prisoner in Azkaban with no name, who is unexpectedly released to reclaim the life he once knew. (Not Sirius Black and an OC) Hey everyone! *Chapter 22 is finally up!* Isn't that great? Enjoy! (Profuse apologies for the long wait.)
1. The Accused and the Insane

Title- The Prisoner with No Name  
  
By Virginia  
  
Rating- PG-13 for language and some slightly violent moments.  
  
Disclaimer- Everyone and everything, including Azkaban, Sirius Black, Severus Snape, etc. belong to JK Rowling. The only thing that's mine is the prisoner that narrates part of this story as well as Jakura.  
  
Warnings- This may have some violence later on, so if you don't like blood, knives, or painful sounding deaths, I would suggest not reading.  
  
Notes- This is my first fan fic, and it may be a long time in the making, as it's nowhere near completion. Heck, I've hardly even started. Anyway, since I'm relatively new to the world of fan fiction, feedback is appreciated. Only constructive criticism, though. All flamers will be pointed at and mocked.  
  
  
  
Chapter One: The Accused and the Insane  
  
The light is fading. Well, it is never really light, not where I am. It is just a darkening in the shades of gray and black surrounding me. Soon, it will be pitch black. I will be thrown into another endless night, where whispering memories of chaos and fear reign, their one purpose to drive me out of my mind. No, not just me, the entire population of the island penitentiary of Azkaban. Yes. That's where I am. The worst wizard jail…no, the worst jail in the entire world. This place makes Alcatraz seem like Euro-Disney.  
  
It's not the place itself. It's actually just a really dark, dank jail, complete with dripping walls and clinking chains, and I think I could handle it okay, if it weren't for them. The dementors.  
  
Even now I can hear them gliding down the corridor, their decaying robes sliding along the floor creating that horrible rustling sound that makes me want to vomit until I black out from fear. The ones standing in front of my particular cell are nearly silent. Nearly. Every once in awhile one takes this deep, rattling breath, and it feels as if my entire body has been plunged into a lake of ice water. It used to happen that I would become incredibly depressed, reliving the most terrible moments in my life. But I've been learning. Most of the other prisoners lose their minds within the first week, screaming in their restless sleep, tearing at their own flesh as if they were trying to physically get out of their skin.  
  
When it's apparent that one of the crazies is truly insane, a single dementor will enter his or her cell, pull off the hood of its robe, and kiss the unlucky person. It's not a kiss, really, it's just called the Dementor's Kiss because the dementor will seal its mouth over the victim's mouth, and suck out his or her very soul. Then, that person is worse off than dead. I don't know what happens when one dies--if there's such a thing as reincarnation, heaven, hell, what have you, but I know one thing. Losing your soul is far worse than any hell you could experience. It leaves your body empty, devoid of any thought, incapable of emotion, movement, or any sensations. It's truly a terrible way to go. I, on the other hand, have decided not to allow myself to become insane. I will do whatever it takes to hold onto the last bit of my mind.  
  
All right, I hear you asking, why am I here? What deed have I committed foul enough to have me thrown into this stinking place? I'll tell you then. I am a Death Eater. Or, I am an accused Death Eater. I might as well claim I am one, since people would never let the possibility that I might not be a Death Eater cross their minds. And they never actually really proved it. This was during the time of that pompous, righteous ass, Bartemius Crouch. When was that, about fifteen years ago? Time flies so fast when you're here. Yet, at times it seems to crawl by slower than a flobberworm. So, Crouch had me thrown in here (even now, I can't recall the exact charges, though I think being labeled Death Eater was enough to have me thrown in here for several life sentences), and here I've stayed for well over a decade, staring into darkness and shadows that surround me, not even bothering to think about the past or future. Such thoughts are what the dementors feed off of. Instead I think only about the present, allowing the darkness to slip into the tiny crevices and corners of my mind until I can hardly even remember who I am.  
  
As I stand in the ever-growing dark, I can hear the dementors shuffling up and down the halls faster than they've ever gone before. They are upset. I can feel their anger and frustration, just as they can feel any happiness in my mind. Someone's escaped from Azkaban. Actually, it was the prisoner in the cell next to my own. He's this extremely dangerous convict, supposedly, who had apparently killed thirteen people with one curse. I don't know if he did it or not. Frankly, I couldn't care less if he's guilty. They said he didn't need a trial—there had been an entire street full of witnesses, including Muggles, but the Ministry managed to convince them it had been some kind of gas explosion. So he didn't get a trial. They didn't even take the time to bring him into a courtroom for the ceremonial condemning. Bastards. I hope he is dangerous; maybe he'll track down the assholes that incarcerated him to this life of hellish misery. I know I would if I ever got free. My belief is innocent until proven guilty, and they never proved him guilty, like they never proved my culpability. He was put here a little after me, and now he's gone, the lucky bastard. I allow a tiny bit of emotion to surface, slamming my fist into the wall of my cell.  
  
Immediately there's a dementor at the entrance to my cell, and I force myself to allow the darkness to seep back into my mind, refusing to let the creature entrance into this precious thing we call a brain. It stands there for a moment, its' face hidden within the shadows of its cowl. I can't tell if it's staring at me or not, and I wait, standing there, facing it, waiting for it to suck in that breath of air that will steal even my anger from me. But it doesn't. The escape of my fellow prisoner must have upset it so much that it glides away from the bars without punishing me, leaving me staring after it blankly.  
  
  
  
A/N: I've made a few grammatical changes along with a few others suggested by my great beta reader. For those of you reading this for the first time, hope you're enjoying it so far. ^_^ 


	2. Interview with a Death Eater

Chapter Two: Interview with a Death Eater  
  
It's been two years since that prisoner escaped. I can tell, because the Minister of Magic has been here on his second annual round since the jailbreak. He wandered down the corridor, stopping at each cell in turn. When he came to mine, I remained where I was in the corner. He spoke to me.  
  
"You, there, what's your name, 26531?" I didn't speak. I hadn't spoken in years, and now this man expected me to open my mouth and reveal my identity, just like that. It didn't make sense that this fat minister, Fudge was his name, Cornelius Fudge, wouldn't know the name of one of the most dangerous criminals in the world (me, if you haven't guessed). I thought that would be on his top priority list. Stupid git. I'd be damned if I ever would answer him.  
  
I sneered instead, putting all the contempt I could muster into that sneer, then went back to inspecting the floor I was sitting on. It was full of cracks and dents, but I felt as if I knew each one by heart. They were like old friends, always there for me. I'm sure I would have started naming them and creating stories for each one, but that requires too much positive mental energy, which the dementors lap up like kittens with a bowl of warm milk. The Minister rapped the bars of my cell with the walking cane he was carrying.  
  
"I said," he said, speaking in a louder tone of voice, "what is your name, 26531?" This time I didn't even look at him. He turned to the young man standing next to him. I hadn't even noticed the kid before, but now I looked up, squinting against the glare of the torch carried by another wizard, and the first thing I saw was a shock of bright red hair. Then lower, horn-rimmed glasses over dark brown eyes and a straight nose. I knew him…how did I know him? My mind struggled to work it out. This was almost painful. I hadn't tried to think about my past in years, yet I knew this man was somehow connected to that different life that I once lived. As I struggled, the Minister asked the man, "Weatherby, what is this prisoner's name?" The younger man, Weatherby…but that couldn't be his name, it didn't make sense…opened the roll of parchment he was carrying and inspected it carefully.  
  
"It doesn't have a name here. Only each prisoner's number, their crime, and their sentence are recorded. This one's here for life on charges of being…a Death Eater." Weatherby said finally.  
  
Weatherby, Weatherby, Weatherby, Weatherly…Weaserly…Weasley, that was it, his name was Weasley…Weasley…the name danced through my mind, twisting and turning in bright fiery twirls, imprinting itself in the darkness there. Fudge frowned in my direction. "Well, I suppose we'll just call you Death Eater, then. So, Death Eater," he spat the title venomously, "I have a few questions for you about your former neighbor, Sirius Black."  
  
I stared at him, then stood, and walked over to the bars. I leaned against them, resting my head against the cool metal, gripping the two other bars with my hands. Sure they were rusting and slimy, but it was a relief to the fire that was dancing in my head. The wizards took an involuntary step back when I'd approached the bars, but I couldn't even allow myself a little smirk of triumph. I didn't really care if I scared the bejesus out of them. I stared at them, especially Weasley. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, yet must have been only a few seconds, the Minister approached the cell once again, with Weatherby following him tentatively. 'His father would never have acted so scared…' I raised my eyebrows in surprise at this thought. Where the hell did it come from? What the hell would I know about his father, when I'd never even set eyes on him before? Bright images flashed through my mind, so full of color and life that they blurred my mental eye, causing me to shut my eyes to try and block out the dazzling brightness.  
  
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on the knuckles of one of my hands. I looked down at them dumbly, leaving them where they were. It'd been awhile since I'd actually felt physical pain that I almost welcomed the sensation. One sensation…that's all I wanted…something different from this darkness, this empty, hungry feeling…  
  
It took a moment for me to realize that it had been Fudge who'd hit my hand with that cane of his. He was shaking it threateningly in my face, practically screaming, "And don't think I won't use this to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours, Death Eater!" I pressed my head forward, baring my teeth in what must have looked like some sort of twisted smile. "I will only speak to Weasley." The words slipped out of my mouth in a hoarse, dry whisper before I even knew they were there. Both men stared at me; Fudge's face a bright purple, Weasley's expression of controlled shock.  
  
"What did you say?" Fudge demanded at length, his voice strained.  
  
"Weasley…" I snarled, well I hadn't meant to snarl, but it just seemed to come out that way, and I pointed at the younger man. Memories were flooding back, a crashing tidal wave of light and noise, something even the dam I'd built up carefully over the years couldn't stop. I saw things I hadn't seen in years, and I wanted to retreat to my corner, back into the ever-present Azkaban night. I knew Weasley…I knew a Weasley, but not this one. His father. And why did the thought of him make me want to break down into tears? Fudge glanced at Weasley. "Why would you want to speak to young Weath—er Weasley?"  
  
"I can speak with him, or" I rasped, "I can speak to no one. I've been silent for over fifteen years, it won't be that hard for me to stop speaking again. You want answers…I don't think I have any, but I can see what I can do to help." I took a deep breath. It had been the most I'd said in years, and it hurt my throat. Fudge shook his head stubbornly.  
  
"No, you talk to me, or you talk to no one. That's the only way it'll work." I sighed and went back to my corner.  
  
"Very well, Fudge, that's your choice. Now go away, since we have nothing to discuss, you and I." Fudge slammed the cane against the bars of my cell, now actually screaming at me, but I'd become deaf to him, slowly slipping quietly back into that almost dead state of mind I knew so well. Finally he left my cell, and continued walking down the corridor.  
  
The young Weasley stood for a moment, watching me. Before I totally immersed myself into the calm darkness I looked at him. "Tell your father that Arrow wants to…apologize. The dark forest…the Dark Mark…it wasn't me…I didn't mean to let Jakura out of my sight… they were…killed…screaming…couldn't do anything…" I trailed off, uncertain of where this train of thought was leading me, but knowing that it would lead only to sorrow. Blackness began to overtake me, but not before I heard Weasley say, "I will tell him."  
  
"Thank you." I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes, and allowing the smallest of smiles to pass over my face. It was my first real smile sixteen years. It felt good. 


	3. Questions without Answers

Chapter Three: The Questions without Answers  
  
Percy barely paid attention to the rest of the tour of Azkaban. Sure he felt incredibly important accompanying the Minister of Magic on this imperative duty, and he was damned pleased with himself for becoming Fudge's assistant. That had been one hell of an accomplishment, and his final goal as Minister of Magic was within his reach. However, his mind kept wandering back to the nearly pitch black cell. He was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened with that prisoner, 26531, the Death Eater. –  
  
There was something very creepy about that one, and the way the Death Eater had known who he was, even though he'd never set foot in this disgusting prison before. He automatically read off the list to Fudge. The Minister still hadn't had any luck with the Black interrogations. Most of the prisoners hadn't known he was there, or were completely insane, claiming that they were in fact He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. But Percy knew 26531 would have told him something if Fudge hadn't been so damned stubborn. But he's the Minister. He knows what he's doing. Percy consoled himself.  
  
'Or does he?'  
  
Percy immediately shut that thought out. It was ridiculous to think that the Minister wasn't completely aware of how to go about interrogating  
  
He was barely able to suppress the sigh of relief that bubbled up inside him when they'd stepped out of Azkaban. The air inside had been damp and smothering, especially oppressive with the presence of the hundreds of dementors that patrolled its interior. Percy shuddered slightly at the thought of being a prisoner in there. No wonder most of them lost their minds. Except that one…that Death Eater…the one who's eyes had been so black in the flickering light of the torch that he felt like they were fathomless, twin black holes, pulling all light into them where it disappeared forever. 'I wonder…should I give Father the message? Maybe he'll have some clue and he probably could clear this whole thing up.' There, it was decided. He would tell his father tonight, as soon as he got home.  
  
Arthur Weasley arrived long after dinner finished, muttering something about a sofa that had been chasing a hapless Muggle around her living room. Percy waited while his mother fixed Arthur a sandwich and had gone upstairs before he started a conversation with him.  
  
"Father," he said, "as the Minister's new assistant, I was required to accompany him to the Prison of Azkaban." Here Arthur looked up at his son.  
  
"I'm sorry, Percy, that must have been difficult to deal with. I went to visit Azkaban once, and I don't mind telling you that I would never want to break the law if it meant I would end up in there."  
  
"No, it's not that that bothers me." Percy searched for a way to explain this to his father. "What I want to say is the Minister has been trying to interrogate some of the prisoners in there on the background of Sirius Black. Especially the one who has a cell adjacent to that of Black's. Number 26351, a convicted Death Eater, who refused to talk to anyone but me."  
  
Arthur Weasley raised his eyebrows in surprise, a slice of ham hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Really?" He asked interestedly, "And what was this Death Eater's name?"  
  
"Wouldn't say, but there's a message for you. I can't really tell if I got everything down, but I wrote what I could remember after…" Percy paused as he pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to his father, who read it intently, his half-eaten sandwich forgotten. After a minute, when he'd re- read it several times, Arthur met his son's eyes.  
  
"And this was all there was?"  
  
Percy nodded affirmatively. Arthur was silent for a minute, a distant look on his face. "I feel like I should remember this…Jakura sounds so familiar, as does Arrow…but I can't place where I've heard them before."  
  
Suddenly, they could hear Mrs. Weasley's voice calling from the top of the stairs, something about Fred and George testing one of their practical joke products on Ron. Arthur sighed, before standing and handing Percy the parchment. "I don't know, Percy. If I discover anything I'll let you know about it right away, okay?" Percy smiled woodenly, thanking him.  
  
For hours after everyone else had gone to bed, he remained downstairs, pacing the living room. Percy couldn't help but feel disappointed in the fact that his father had been no help whatsoever. He paused staring into the fire. "This doesn't make sense. How could that prisoner know my father and have a message for him and my father not recall anything about anything in it? Unless…" Percy paused in his ruminations, afraid to even speak the words, "Unless, he was Obliviated. But why? Who would do such a thing, and to what purpose?"  
  
Wiping a wizard of his memory was a terrible thing to do. Sure, the charm was performed on Muggles every day, but that was for their own protection. Could an obliviation charm have been placed on his father for his protection? Why would his father need protection from anyone?  
  
Percy sighed, rubbing his eyes. 'You really should stop this right now, Percy. It's not like this could have any real effect on anyone. It's all in the past, and right now you have to think about the future.' Percy sighed again. The future. That's what was important. He had his career to think about, and even though he knew he might never be able to push the day's events from his mind, he knew it wouldn't help to dwell on them. Resolved, he made his way upstairs to his bedroom, falling instantly asleep, without images of Death Eaters dancing in his head. 


	4. Unexpected Freedom

Chapter Four: Unexpected Freedom  
  
It's been a little less than a year since the Minister and Weasley have been here. I have slipped back into that carefully trained state of mind that won't allow dementors access to my thoughts. I know that Weasley never did anything, otherwise Arthur Weasley would have gotten me out of here months ago. I struggle to suppress feelings of anger and disappointment. But something's happening. The dementors have grown restless. The ones that usually guard my cell have disappeared, and the last dementor to go down the corridor disappeared over an hour ago.  
  
I don't know what to do. Should I take this chance and follow the example set by Black? I'm not sure if it's some kind of trick. While I'm still trying to figure out what to do, I hear the sound of scrabbling across my floor. A fat gray rat skids across my cell. It stops and stares at me. I eye it hungrily, having been on starvation rations since Fudge had left. I suddenly notice one of the rat's front paws was completely silver. This is no ordinary rat, maybe even not a rat at all. I force my eyes to remain blank, staring at the thing as it runs out of my cell.  
  
Suddenly a man is standing there, in front of the bars. He's short, balding, and very round. He twitches nervously, but I see his right hand is the same silver as that rat's paw. I watch him stupidly as he breaks the lock on the door with a lazy twist of that silver hand. Not a rat, not a rat, yet still a little fat rat. I don't know where this came from, but it was the first coherent thought I'd had for days, and I wonder at its meaning. He walks in, and I sidle back to my corner, my eyes never leaving him. He gives me an unpleasant sort of smile. "You are free to go." I remain where I am, expecting a dementor to slip inside my cell and perform the kiss on me at any moment. The smile on his face disappears.  
  
"I said you are free to go," he says in a low voice. I shake my head, my eyes darting around for any sign of the dementors. There was none.  
  
"Pettigrew, what the hell are you doing? Haven't you finished yet?" A cold voice breaks the silence, and soon a tall man with silvery blonde hair appears. I stare at the shorter man for a moment before dropping my gaze. Peter Pettigrew? The one Black supposedly killed in that murder spree? I frown slightly, trying to back further into the corner, like some trapped animal.  
  
The blonde man stops at the sight of the man inside my cell, and his stony features break into a malicious sneer. "Well, well, Peter. I don't think the Dark Lord would appreciate "bonding" with the prisoners, do you?"  
  
The little rat man glares at him. "This one won't leave. Perhaps you are fond of this place?" He turns towards me. I do the first thing that pops into my mind, something that might keep me safe from this cold man. I sing.  
  
"Little rat, little rat, where have I seen you at? Here or there, maybe nowhere! Do your best to make the master proud, so you may one day sit upon a cloud!" I twist my face into a demented grin, and start prancing in a circle, waving my arms above my head. The two men watch me silently, the blonde with a smirk, Pettigrew with his eyes open wide, his face turning a whiter shade of pale.  
  
"I think this one's insane, Malfoy," Pettigrew hisses.  
  
I stop twirling, the grin still plastered on my face, continuing the tuneless song. "Here is a fine fix I'm in. Incarcerated for a sin. But now two stand right here with me, one with eyes colder than the sea. I know one is supposed to be dead, so are they really just in my head?"  
  
Malfoy steps forward suddenly, grabbing my arm. I stare at his hand. No one's  
  
touched me in over seventeen years. I make a small sound in the back of my throat, but Malfoy effectively silences me by wrapping his other hand around my throat. His hand nearly fully encircles my neck because I am so thin from the meager rations they gave me. "Now listen to me, you little prat," he growls, "I don't care if you are insane or not. Don't talk about things you couldn't possibly understand, or else I will make it a personal mission to turn your life into a living hell, understand?"  
  
I want to spit in his face, and struggle desperately to hide my rage. How dare he threaten to make my life more miserable than it already was? It wasn't possible to turn my life into a living hell. It already was one. I keep grinning, nodding the best I could with his hand on my neck, and humming softly to myself.  
  
Malfoy narrows his blue-gray eyes. "I don't believe you. Perhaps we should find a way to get this message through that little brain of yours." He reaches inside his robes, drawing out his wand. Pettigrew whimpers slightly in the background, and I widen my eyes innocently, still smiling, wishing this were over, that I had left the cell when I'd the chance. 'You are such an idiot. Just because you literally haven't used your brain for over a decade…'  
  
My thoughts were cut off by a voice that sounded like silk sliding across slate. "Malfoy, Pettigrew, what's going on here? Why haven't you released the other prisoners?"  
  
A man enters my field of vision over Malfoy's shoulder. He is tall, as tall as Malfoy, with dark billowing robes and lanky, shoulder- length black hair. He stares at the scene with cold black eyes, his pale lips set in a thin line, his sallow skin in stark contrast to his hair and robes. Malfoy lets go of me and I dart back to my corner, where I crouch, the insane smile still on my face. "Let's just say this particular prisoner was giving us a bit of trouble. Seems to not want to leave the cell, and has been singing perfectly ridiculous songs. However, I think we've handled the situation, Snape," Malfoy says softly, then he turns towards me, "Haven't we, my little convict?" I don't make any reply. Malfoy stalks over and grabs my hair, yanking me upwards. "I said, we've handled the situation, haven't we?" he snarls.  
  
I grin at him and then at this man, Snape. Oh, he is a dark and mysterious one. He is in the same league with these men and yet he wasn't. I shake my head to clear the thoughts. Malfoy misinterprets my actions, thinking I am disagreeing with him, and he flings me to the stone floor, pointing his wand at my sprawled form. "Then again, maybe we haven't. Crucio." He says in an almost gentle voice. Instantly, my body is engulfed in pain. I curl up on the floor, my skin feeling like it's being ripped off my skeleton, my insides feeling like they are being shredded slowly. The pain seems to sear through every neuron of my body; even the tips of my hair are alight with a painful fire. I shudder, biting my lip hard.  
  
Suddenly, the pain is gone. I look up slowly to see the three men watching me, for some reason, all three looking slightly bemused. Malfoy crouches near my head, chucking my chin with his knuckle. "What, no scream? No pleas for mercy? My dear little convict, I believe I may have a challenge with you." I cock my head to the side, pretending to not understand. I can taste blood in my mouth from where I'd bitten my lip.  
  
"No, Lucius." Snape steps forward. "I'll take care of this one. Can't you see all these years in this stinking hellhole have caused most of the prisoners to become insane? This one is no different, and torture is no way to get answers. Prisoners like this aren't worth your effort."  
  
Malfoy looks resentful for a moment, before nodding, and before I know it, I'm hauled once again to my feet, this time by Snape, who proceeds to drag me from the cell. Once we are in the corridor, he grips my arm more tightly, and then, with a rush of deep night and cold air, he Apparates us out of Azkaban. 


	5. The Deliverer and Lost Memories

Chapter Five: The Deliverer and Lost Memories  
  
I stare at my surroundings, dumbfounded. The man, Snape, has Apparated us to a very neat looking house. Snape releases my arm and touches my shoulder. I jerk away from his touch, sidling out of arm's reach my eyes never leaving him. He arches a black eyebrow at me, his face grim. "Is this how you thank your deliverer?" His voice is laced with sarcastic irony.  
  
"Deliverer." I rasp at last, my face contorting in the same maniacal grin I had worn not so long ago in Azkaban. "What have you delivered me from?"  
  
"Lucius and Peter." He says matter-of-factly. "And stop smiling like that. You know as well as I do that you aren't mad."  
  
"Oh, I see. Once you figured out I'm not insane, you decided you wanted me all to yourself to torture, rather than let Malfoy have the fun. Now, where I come from, rescuing people involves releasing them from bondage, not interning them to something worse." My smile seems to twist into a sneer on its own. "Besides, I may not be very good sport, despite what Malfoy says, considering I might not last long under another cruciatus curse." I return in a voice dripping with contempt.  
  
He frowns slightly. "I did not bring you here to torture you. Lucius had no practical reason to harm you, and neither do I."  
  
"Then why bother rescuing me?" I ask, my mind beginning to reel, the sneer fading. Snape's lip curls.  
  
"I would not have expected someone who has lived with no one to talk to for so many years, and who has, no doubt, learned the value of words, to waste them by utilizing them for such insensible questions. Now, go upstairs and into the bathroom. Clean your teeth, take a shower, and then put on the spare robes you'll find there." I raise my eyebrows, surprised. He holds up a hand to silence any other ridiculous questions I might have. "Go, before I change my mind and send you back to Lucius' mercy."  
  
I stand in the bathroom, marveling at the clean tiled floor and walls. So white…and there are smaller tiles dispersed here and there, tiles full of color. Reds, greens, and blues, colors I had not seen since…then. I touch them in wonderment. I turn my attention to the sink, resting my hands on the cool white porcelain. Tentatively, I reach out and turn one of the brass handles, and watch in near disbelief as cool, clear water flows from the tap. I scoop handfuls of it into my mouth, reveling in the feel of clean water pouring down my parched throat. I had almost forgotten about the miracle of indoor plumbing, something that so many people take for granted.  
  
Suddenly, something catches my eye, causing me to look up, and I'm staring at my reflection in the mirror hanging over the sink. The face I knew so well has changed dramatically from the visage I remember in some hazy memory. At one time, I might have been called attractive, but now, my cheeks are sunken in, as are my eyes, giving my face a skull like appearance. My hair has grown so much, that it falls knotted and greasy past my waist. At one time it had been a brownish-red, from what I can remember, but the years of filth and grime had turned it nearly black, with only slight bits of the original color peeping through the grease haphazardly. But what cause me to feel a sudden surge of panic were my eyes. They stare back at me, their whites now bloodshot and yellow, the irises filled with a dark void, an endless night.  
  
True, I had left Azkaban, but Azkaban would not leave me as easily. I start  
  
back from the sink, covering my face with my hands. "No, no, no!" The words rip from me violently. "That is not I! That cannot be I!" Hot tears pour from my haunted eyes, and I wipe at them viciously, an automatic reaction of trying to hide my emotions.  
  
I don't know how long it takes for me to gather my thoughts enough to peel  
  
off the rags that had once been my prison uniform, and step into the bathtub. But somehow I do it. I turn on the water, letting it blast first cold and then increasingly hot over my filthy body, until steam clouds up the bathroom. At first I stand there, my head hanging almost to my chest, before I finally find the incentive to pick up the bar of soap. I spend nearly an hour scraping the layers of dirt off until my skin is red and raw from the hot water and continuous rubbing, as if I'm trying to remove all the vestiges of the cursed prison from my person.  
  
At long last I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and pull on one of the spare robes Snape had mentioned. The fit is a bit big, but after those scraps of cloth I mentioned before I could be wearing a circus tent and I wouldn't care. For long moments I stare into the reflection, somewhat modified by the careful cleaning, though my hair remains as knotted as it had been before, though slightly less greasy, the original color more visible now. I slowly leave the bathroom and walk downstairs.  
  
Snape is standing at a table in the kitchen, perusing a scrap of parchment, and I spot an owl sitting patiently on a perch by the window. It turns its golden eyes on me and I stare back. I thought I'd never see one again, and yet here it was, hooting softly as I walk over and stroke its back gently. "Hello, bird." I murmur. Without so much a glance in my direction, Snape says, "Enjoy the shower, now that you've used up all of my hot water?"  
  
I shrug and stand where I am. "I did. Now, what do you want, Snape?"  
  
"To give you a pair of scissors." He says finally looking at me.  
  
"Scissors?" I echo, startled. He reaches over and holds up one of my matted locks in his long fingers for me to see.  
  
"To cut off this mess."  
  
As I lean over a garbage can, cutting indiscriminately at the long tangled locks, I hear Snape moving around the kitchen. I chop at the hair ferociously, when, abruptly, smells of cooking fill the kitchen, causing my stomach to growl loudly and my mouth to literally fill with saliva. Finally, I finish, the hair short, sticking out in many cowlicks. I look like a Kneazle that's been caught in a hurricane.(1) I nearly laugh at myself, running a hand through my hair, before turning around.  
  
Snape has put food on the table. A bowl of gently steaming soup, a loaf of  
  
bread, a small salad, and a pitcher of orange liquid beckon me. I look at him and he smirks slightly. "Nice hair; quite an improvement. Now, sit and eat."  
  
I comply without a word, pulling the food towards me, pushing away all questions. 'Never look a gift horse in the mouth, even if that horse is a slimy looking, hook-nosed stranger.' I think consolingly.  
  
I eat slowly, carefully, basking in the warmth of the soup as it hits the pit of my shrunken stomach. It is like heaven. I rip off a piece of the loaf, dipping it gently into the soup, allowing the liquid to absorb into the bread before stuffing it into my mouth and chewing with unearthly vigor. Snape is silently watching while I eat. He stands next to owl, his arms crossed over his chest, his black eyes looking closely at me, and I can only imagine what he is thinking. Perhaps he is finally realizing he made a mistake by taking in a convict.  
  
'No, he made a mistake years ago when he joined that group of mask toting terrorists and he knows it.'  
  
I feel the urge to ask him what will happen if Lucius Malfoy discovers Snape had actually taken me into his home and given me food. At the same time I know I don't want to hear the answer. Instead of speaking, I concentrate on the food before me.  
  
Once I start to feel slightly full (something I haven't felt in such a long time that I've almost forgotten that one can feel full of anything other than despair) I stop eating for a moment to pour myself a glass of the orange liquid. 'It's pumpkin juice. I haven't had this particular drink since…' An image flashes across my mind…one with blurred faces, happy laughter…someone's voice cuts through the mixed chatter, asking me how I've done on finals. I close my eyes, trying to cling to the picture, but it's like trying to hold water in my cupped hands. It slips away, leaving only a few drops clinging to the crevices of my consciousness.  
  
I put my glass down with a clatter, standing abruptly. I need to leave, to get away from this clean place and its strangely generous inhabitant. I don't want these memories that weren't memories but only partially recalled glimpses of a life that I don't even consider mine anymore.  
  
I rush from the kitchen, through the living room and to the front door, not noticing, not caring if Snape makes any move to halt my flight. In a flash I'm outside and running, the wind streaming past my face, racing through the bright sunlight, away from all thoughts of forgotten memories and a past that does not belong to me.  
  
  
  
1 Scamander, Newt 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' Scholastic Press Inc., 2001 (24-25) 


	6. Percy's Personal Quest

A/N: Heads up in this chapter! Made some pretty obvious changes, some having to do with the time line of the story at the present, and others having to do with some characters. Those of you who've read this before must have noticed how un-Percy-like Percy was. Not caring about cauldron bottom thickness reports and leaving work without a by-your leave, tsk tsk, for shame, Perce. ^_~  
  
Chapter Six: Percy's Personal Quest  
  
Percy leaned forward, staring at the report he was writing for the Ministry intently. So far only two lines were scrawled across the parchment, and he could barely recall writing them. Normally the reports he wrote on cauldron bottom thickness and quill feather width interested him to no end, but today he found his attention wandering.  
  
He rested his elbows on the table, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, heaving a huge sigh. 'Come on, Percy,' he thought, 'Focus.' But he just couldn't. Big events were happening in the wizarding world at the moment, and frankly, he could care less about illegal imports. It was impossible to think about something so trivial with You-Know-Who back and all the prisoners of Azkaban released. The dementors had simply disappeared, though Percy had a nasty suspicion, shared by many others, including Albus Dumbledore and his father, that the Dark Lord had recruited them to his ranks. Fudge was still in denial about the entire issue, claiming the dementors were the ones to blame.  
  
"They left their posts, Dumbledore! Yes, they just got bored and left. That's all there is to it! Nothing more, nothing less." Fudge had yelled during a brief meeting with the Hogwarts Headmaster. Despite the fact that Dumbledore had declared a Parting of Ways nearly a year ago, he had returned for one final meeting to see if Fudge hadn't suddenly experienced a change of heart. However, nothing had changed. Fudge continued to exist in his continuous state of denial.  
  
Dumbledore stroked his long white beard thoughtfully. "My dear Fudge, I do believe there is much more to this than you or I may think. The wizards on duty at Azkaban were all killed by the Avada Kedavra curse. When the dementors disappeared, the prisoners were set free, at least those who hadn't lost their minds. Those who had gone insane, and hadn't been delivered a Dementor's Kiss, were murdered in their cells. I do not care to describe the manner in which we found those unlucky souls. Now, Fudge, would you care to try and explain that?"  
  
"I…it's—it's preposterous!" Fudge spluttered, "You cannot…Dumbledore, surely you don't mean to say…" he had suddenly drawn himself to his full height, an "impressive" 5'4", his round face turning a bright shade of purple, "We are looking into the situation. Those prisoners who escaped will be recaptured and returned to Azkaban. We will find the dementors and negotiate something with them. This has all probably been the work of a few rambunctious Death Eaters who cannot let go of the idea that they are finished and You-Know-Who is well and truly dead. That is all it is. Now, if you'll excuse me, Dumbledore, I have a meeting to attend to shortly. I trust you can find your way out."  
  
Honestly, Percy had felt shocked and a little disappointed by his superior's treatment of Dumbledore. After all, the older wizard was one of the most powerful in the entire wizarding world, and it had long been rumored that Dumbledore himself had turned down the position of Minister of Magic in favor of being Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
When the Headmaster had been making his way out of the Ministry, Percy had run up to him, his glasses slightly askew. "Professor, wait."  
  
The older man had turned, his tired face breaking into a smile. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. How are you? Enjoying your work here?"  
  
"Yes, very much." Percy had hesitated, wanting to ask him something, but not sure how to go about it. "This may seem a bit strange, but was the prisoner in the cell next to Sirius Black's old cell…well…you said that those who were insane were murdered…did you find that one dead as well?"  
  
Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly. "We found no one in that cell. Like the other cells some incredible force had torn off the lock. There was no body, though there were some signs of a struggle. We don't know where those prisoners who were released have gone. We think that most, especially former Death Eaters, have returned to Voldemort," Dumbledore smiled slightly at Percy's obvious flinch with the mention of the Dark Lord's name, "however, we shall find out more information as time passes. Until then, all we can do is wait and prepare ourselves for the worst."  
  
"Are you sure, Professor? Is there nothing at all we can do?" Percy had asked, allowing a slight note of worry tell in his voice.  
  
"We have been taking steps to helping our side since the first moment we heard Voldemort was back, back at the Triwizard Tournament. I'm sure you must remember that night."  
  
Percy had shuddered slightly, remembering the panic of that night, how he and Bill had struggled desperately to calm the terrified crowd and their own mother, Molly, who had almost gone to pieces when Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory had disappeared and then reappeared what seemed eons later, Harry bleeding from many wounds, and Cedric dead. He remembered how Fudge had blustered the entire way back to the Ministry, refusing to allow the idea that the Dark Lord may have actually returned to cross his mind.  
  
"What can I do to help, Professor?" Percy asked after a moment of  
  
silence. Dumbledore smiled. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Weasley. Just continue with the excellent work you've been accomplishing here. The Ministry is lucky to have such a skilled, hard-working employee."  
  
That had been two days ago. Now, as he sat writing reports for the Ministry all he could think about was what was happening. The jailbreak greatly worried him. When he thought about some of those men and women in the prison and what they had done to land them there, he felt a chill of fear run through his body. He had vague memories of what it had been like when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his power; how his father and mother had been constantly worried, not allowing their sons out of their sight for longer than a few hours. They had been afraid of everything back then, and it had always been Percy's secret fear that life would return to that state of constant vigilance  
  
Percy looked at the report again, his face twisted in disgust. There was no way in hell he was going to get it done right now. He stood hastily and left his small, cramped office. 'Where can I go to get away from things?' He barely noticed where his feet were leading him as he walked through the Ministry, his mind returning once again to prisoner 26531. It still bothered him that he didn't know any more about the message. Yes, he had convinced himself that he would stop thinking about it and concern himself with the future. However, since the recent events he couldn't help but wonder about the Death Eater who'd known who his father was. If only he could find out more information, at least to fill in some of the blanks.  
  
With a shock, he saw he was in the Ministry of Magic's library. Percy should have guessed that this would be the place he would automatically go to, considering it was his usual haven. He just enjoyed the silence of the old books and the calmness the air seemed to be filled with. Here there could be no confusions, no worries, all the answers were in the writings of those who came before him.  
  
He walked down the aisles of bookcases, running his hand lightly over the spines of the ancient volumes. He stopped suddenly. He was in the law section, staring at a row of books, all labeled 'Chronicles of Wizard Court Hearings.' "Of course!" Percy exclaimed aloud, giving himself a mental slap. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before!" He examined each book carefully before pulling down 'Chronicles of Wizard Court Hearings, 1970-1980, 1980-1990.' He remembered that the prisoner had mentioned being silent for over fifteen years during the interview with Fudge, which meant the Death Eater's trial and incarceration must taken place around 1980. There had to be some record of the arrest and hearing in here somewhere, and perhaps the crime (he hoped there was something more helpful than the fact that the convict had been a Death Eater).  
  
Percy carried the book with him out of the library, after having checked with the Ministry's librarian to see if he could take it with him. At first Percy contemplated returning to his office to review the book. He didn't exactly look forward to the confined space, even though he finally had an office to call his own. He struggled with the decision of whether he should go home or stay at the Ministry. It was far too early for him to leave work; he hadn't even been on lunch break yet.  
  
Percy's answer came in the shape of Nicole Wimbles, a work colleague, hurrying down the hall towards him. It wasn't that he had anything against the girl, she was quite nice once you got her to stop complaining about her insensitive boyfriend. Rather than find out if he had dumped her for the tenth time this week, Percy ducked out the main doors of the Ministry and Apparated to his house.  
  
Without a word to anyone as to why he was home so early, Percy ran to his bedroom and locked himself in. He sat down at the desk, opening the book, and started the long process of finding this 'Arrow' by going through every single trial case for every year.  
  
He'd made it to 1976 before there was a knock on his door. Irritated, he stood up, nearly knocking his chair over, and succeeding in bashing his leg against a sharp corner of his bed. Swearing was not usually his style, but by the time he got to the door, Percy was making it his style, and coming up with several inventive, colorful phrases to describe the bed. He unlocked the door and peered out, rubbing his leg gingerly, his face flushed and upset. "What is it?" He snapped, before he saw who was standing in the hallway. "Bill? What are you doing back?" His ponytail- sporting brother flashed him a smile.  
  
"Hey there, Perce, it's nice to see you too. Actually, I'm just home for a visit, and then I'm off again. Mind if I come in?" Percy hesitated the briefest of moments before opening the door the rest of the way.  
  
"No. Come on in."  
  
Percy gestured for Bill to sit, but he remained standing. Percy shrugged and sat on the chair instead, shielding the book on the desk with his body. Bill crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, Percy, I suppose I'll just tell you why I'm here. Mum saw you run in and straight upstairs in the middle of the afternoon without a word to her. Now, she's just wondering if everything's okay, you know what I mean?"  
  
"Yes, everything's just fine. Why is it so strange that I came home? It is where I live, after all." Percy said, raising his eyebrows innocently.  
  
"Godamn, Perce. There's something up, I know it. You've never missed a day of work in your life, not ever. Hell, even in school you would go to class half-dead if you had to. Remember that day you had to be carried to the infirmary because you passed out in McGonagall's Transfiguration class? Mum went into hysterics when she got that owl. The only way you would ever miss work is if Hell's frozen over and Beelzebub's joined the Ice Capades." Bill gestured wildly, losing his cool. Percy gave a short, humorless laugh.  
  
"Then you better get a pair of ice skates, Bill. I have missed work, so what? It's no big deal." Bill slumped onto the bed, staring at his younger brother.  
  
"Who are you, and what have you done with Percy?" Percy shrugged. They sat  
  
in silence, looking at each other for a moment.  
  
"Have you been fired?" Bill asked suddenly. Percy shook his head.  
  
"Nope. Just took the day off to get some…extra work done."  
  
"You took the day off to do more work? Why the hell didn't you just work  
  
over time? It would've saved Mum the heart attack, that's for sure. We were all expecting the worse."  
  
"It's…it doesn't have to do with the Ministry…" Percy hesitated, wondering how much he should tell his older brother, "At least, I don't think it does yet. Let's just say it is something of a personal mission of mine…that's all."  
  
Bill raised his eyebrows. "You have a life outside the Ministry, Percy? Well, that's a bit shocking." They were silent for moment, and Percy felt the familiar anger rising inside him at the thought that his family didn't think he had any life other than work. 'But it's true, Percy. Before this thing, all you did care about was reports on cauldron bottom thickness.' A small voice whispered in the back of his mind.  
  
"Do you need any help with whatever it is you're doing?" Bill asked. Percy shook his head.  
  
"No, but if anything comes from it, I'll be sure to let everyone know, okay?"  
  
His older brother leaned forward. "What is it, Percy? Can you give me a hint?"  
  
Percy shook his head again, standing quickly. "No, Bill, I really can't. Just let it  
  
go for now, okay? Like I said, I'll tell you about it if something happens. Let Mother know that I haven't been fired and that everything's okay, will you?"  
  
"Sure, Perce, whatever you want." Bill shrugged. Percy let out a small sigh of relief.  
  
"Now, um, do you think I could have some privacy to work on this?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, of course. See you at dinner, Percy." Bill stood to leave, but before he walked out the door, he turned to face his younger brother. "Good  
  
luck, Percy." Percy smiled slightly.  
  
"Thanks, Bill."  
  
Three hours later, Percy had finally gotten to 1978. The number of trials per year increased greatly since 1975, and most of the defendants were charged for being Death Eaters, for torturing and murdering Muggles and wizards alike. He scanned the page, glimpsing at each trial for key words, Death Eater, Arrow, Jakura, and even his own father's name. And he found it. It was a small passage, barely even noticeable at the bottom of the page. Percy read it closely, his eyes widening with each word. When he finished, he sat a moment staring at some spot on the wall in front of him. The small voice was back again, whispering. 'I don't believe it.' 


	7. It's in the Name

Chapter Eight: It's in the Name  
  
Percy slammed the heavy volume in front of his father, effectively squishing the slightly wilted broccoli and cold meat left over from their dinner that evening. "Read that!" he exclaimed, stabbing a finger emphatically at the open page.  
  
Arthur raised his eyebrows and leaned forward to read what Percy had given him. After a few minutes of silence, he looked up at his son, his eyes wide in shock. "How did you find this?"  
  
"I did a little research. Plus, the Ministry's a somewhat over- zealous about their records." Percy remained standing, his arms crossed, his eyes flashing behind his characteristic horn-rimmed glasses.  
  
For some reason, Arthur grinned at him. "That's why you're so perfect for the Ministry, Perce."  
  
"This isn't about me, Father." Percy threw his hands into the air. "This is far more important than some low-paying job at the Ministry of Magic. Just explain this to me, will you?"  
  
Arthur looked back down at the page. "I'm not sure I can."  
  
"What do you mean you're not sure you can? The fate of a person may have rested on your shoulders, and you never even stepped forward to give a testimony." Percy was practically yelling at this point.  
  
Arthur stood, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Percy, calm down. I can't even remember any of this, and I especially didn't remember it at the time of the trial. So how could I have given a testimony if I was clueless about the entire thing to begin with?"  
  
"I don't understand." Percy sat in a chair, rubbing his forehead in exasperation, "How can you not remember someone who has your own name? Hello? Weasley. That Death Eater is a Weasley…or was—could be dead by now for all I know. Father, you do know about what happened to those people in Azkaban, don't you?"  
  
Arthur nodded, his expression mournful. "Yes, I do. But Percy, can't you see that something just isn't working here? You said the prisoner's name was Arrow, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes. At least, that's what I assumed." Percy looked questioningly at his father.  
  
Arthur's forehead wrinkled slightly in concentration. "Then why is there a different name recorded here?"  
  
"Maybe it's some kind of nickname…" he trailed off as he watched his father suddenly go rigid, his eyes slightly misted over, as if recalling something long thought to be forgotten. "When Voldemort was at the height of his power, we who fought against him formed a group that worked alongside Aurors. To keep our identities secret, in case any of our correspondences were intercepted, we assumed code names, like nicknames. I was Spark. I don't know how I came up with that one…"  
  
"All right, so I suppose we can assume this Arrow was one of your group, correct?" Percy jumped from his chair and started pacing. Arthur watched slightly bemused. "Do you think anyone actually went to the trial? Anyone who might remember it?" Percy asked. Then it hit him—the person who must have attended all of the trials during Voldemort's era. "Father, I need to speak to Albus Dumbledore." 


	8. Requiem for a Dream

Chapter Nine: Requiem for a Dream  
  
"And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,  
  
With many recognitions dim and faint,  
  
And somewhat of a sad perplexity,  
  
The picture of the mind revives again…" - William Wordsworth, "Tintern Abbey"  
  
  
  
I have fallen well and truly asleep, a peaceful darkness descending on me. I don't know how long I've been floating in this darkness when I see a flash of light across my closed eyes. I squeeze them tighter, intent on returning to the deep night. But the light won't let me. It flashes again, and suddenly I'm in a forest. It's must be in the very early morning, because I can detect the lightening of the dark sky just over the treetops. Some part of me knows that this is a dream, and a little voice whispers somewhere in my subconscious, 'I thought Snape said this would be a dreamless sleep…" Before I get a chance to ponder the mistake he must have made while brewing the potion, a rustling in the bushes to my right cause me to turn. A short woman with a round face and long chestnut hair pulled back into a messy bun come running towards me.  
  
"Arrow!" She cries, brown eyes wide in fear, "They're here! There's just too many of them! We have to find Spark and the others, and get the hell away!" She clutches at my hand, trying to pull me out of the clearing.  
  
I speak in a voice that's mine, but isn't. "Calm down, Jakura. Tell me, where are they?" Before she can answer, there's another rustling, from which emerges a tall man in a black robes. I can't see his face, it's masked, and in the back of my mind I think one word: Dementor. But it isn't a dementor, and the person who's me in this dream knows that.  
  
My dream self holds my wand out, ready to cast the first curse that came to mind, but before I can, the man utters one shrill word, "Expelliarmus!" My and Jakura's wands are ripped from our hands, and we watch helplessly as the man in black catches them easily. He laughs harshly, and I can only imagine what his face must look like under that mask, twisting in cruel mirth. Suddenly, we are surrounded by what must be about fifty people, all garbed in robes and masks, and all I can hear is the voice in my mind screaming, 'Death Eaters!' Jakura and I stand back to back, covering each other as best we can.  
  
The Death Eaters watch us laughing with the same manner as the tall Death Eater. Without warning, they fall silent, and one section of their ranks split, and another man walks into the clearing. He is not masked, and I can see his face as clearly as if it were the middle of the afternoon. His eyes are an icy blue, set in a coldly handsome face, his jet-black hair slicked back carefully. A snake is wrapped around his shoulders, hissing at us balefully. Immediately I know who it is, without a doubt.  
  
"Voldemort." My dream self whispers. Jakura goes still, I can feel her muscles freezing against my back, but we both stay where we are. Only I have the full view of the Dark Lord, and he smiles at me. "Well, well. What do we have here?" his voice is almost unnaturally high, and he raises one of his hands to stroke the head of the snake perched on his shoulders. I nearly shudder at the sight of his hands, with long, delicate fingers, that stretch up with careful movement. He never takes his eyes off me. "What would two people like you be doing walking around the forest at this ungodly hour? It's quite dangerous here…you never know what you might run into." The Death Eaters give a short laugh, and Voldemort continues to smile his pitiless smile.  
  
He steps forward a little more until he's nearly nose-to-nose with me. I recoil slightly, but am not able to go far because of Jakura against my back.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to be trying to capture me, would you?" Voldemort murmurs dangerously, "That is something I wouldn't recommend anyone doing. Especially a Muggle-lover like you and a Mudblood like the one we've got here."  
  
Before I can react, he's reached over and grabbed Jakura by the hair, pulling her away from me so that she's by his side. His snake hisses indignantly before sliding off his master's shoulder and slithering off into the forest.  
  
I make a small sound in the back of my throat and lunge forward, but Voldemort halts me by pointing his wand at her throat. "Ah, I wouldn't suggest you try anything funny, my poor, misguided friend. I can easily kill your Mudblood friend here; it just takes one tiny word and a flick of my wrist and you'll be attending her funeral."  
  
I stop moving, but look at him with pure contempt and hatred. He pulls Jakura's head back none-too gently, so that she's looking up at him. "Well, what would you suggest, Mudblood? I could kill you and let your partner live, or I could kill your friend and let you go free. Which should I do?"  
  
Jakura stares at him, her face twisted in disgust. "Whichever I choose, you'll just kill both of us anyway."  
  
Voldemort laughs coldly, the laughter never reaching those azure blue eyes. "That may be, but I would like to know which you would prefer? Your life or your friend's, it's up to you."  
  
Jakura closes her eyes, then opens them and looks the Dark Lord full in the face without a single trace of fear. "Kill me. Let Arrow live."  
  
"No!" My dream self screams, "Jakura, I'm not worth it! Take my life instead, Voldemort. Let her go, and take me in her place."  
  
Voldemort laughs again, throwing Jakura roughly to the ground, and I rush to her side, shielding her with my body. "You noble-minded fools! You all are so willing to give your lives for one another; it makes me feel ill. However, let's just say your pleading has touched this heart of mine," here he pauses, dramatically holding a hand over his chest, where his heart supposedly exists, before continuing, "And I have decided not to kill one of you. I have created a plan, which will leave one of you alive. Lucius, give me their wands."  
  
The tall Death Eater who first found us walks over and hands the Dark Lord our wands. I watch furiously as Voldemort holds out his wand, pointing it lazily at me.  
  
"Now you, go to that side of the circle." He commands, and I feel like a giant hand lifts me by my neck and drops me twenty feet away from where Jakura stands. I stand still, fearfully waiting for what will happen next.  
  
Voldemort is standing in between the two of us, holding my wand pointed at Jakura, her wand pointed at me. "I have now chosen which one of you will live, and which one will die. Are there any words you want to share before you depart from this life?" I look desperately at Jakura.  
  
"Arrow…" She whispers, and I murmur, "Jakura." If either of us were about to say something, it was cut off by Voldemort screaming, "Stupefy! Avada Kedavra!" I see a flash of white and then green light, and my world is plunged into darkness once again. 


	9. The Trial

Chapter Ten: The Trial  
  
"Mr. Weasley, it's good to see you again. How are things at the Ministry?" Dumbledore said when he Apparated right into the Burrow after receiving Percy's owl. Percy smiled weakly. "As good as can be expected, Professor. The Minister's still, shall we say, unaware of Voldemort's presence. And we haven't located the whereabouts of those prisoners released from Azkaban."  
  
As soon as he'd figured out that Dumbledore was the man he needed to talk to, Percy had run upstairs and scribbled a quick note, stressing the importance of this meeting, and suggesting that Percy travel to Hogwarts and discuss his findings. However, Dumbledore had owled him back, saying in a short note:  
  
Mr. Weasley,  
  
I can only say that I am pleased with the amount of research you've done concerning the history of this one person. Like you, I believe the trials of Lord Voldemort's era to have been too hasty and superficial for any real justice to be done, and I am sure there were many innocent people wrongly incarcerated. You do not have to come to Hogwarts; I will visit you in the Burrow, and I plan on leaving as soon as I finish this note. In fact, you may be still reading this by the time I arrive.  
  
See you soon.  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
The letter was indeed still in Percy's hand as he greeted the Headmaster. He folded it neatly, and put it in the robe of his pocket while offering Dumbledore a seat in the living room. As soon as the older wizard had made himself comfortable, turning down the offer of coffee, tea, or food, Percy had gotten right to the point.  
  
"Professor, I know you must have attended many of the trials in the seventies, and though I am aware you couldn't be expected to remember every single detail of each of those trials, I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the one particular trial I mentioned in the letter, concerning that prisoner, 26531, or, known among colleagues as 'Arrow'."  
  
"Indeed. It is true that I could not possibly remember every detail of every court hearing I attended, though I've tried to impress each one into my memory. When I found that to be somewhat unreliable, I found another means of preserving the memory of those dark times." Dumbledore reached down into the large black bag he had brought with him and lifted out what appeared to be a stone bowl with strange, runic carvings along the outside. Inside the bowl, Percy could see a silvery, liquid looking material that shifted constantly in what could only be described as bewitching patterns.  
  
"Is that…is that a Pensieve?" Percy asked quietly. He had only read about these memory devices in books at school, and had never actually seen one until this moment. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"Yes, very perceptive of you, Mr. Weasley. Here I've stored all the memories that could not be held in this old mind forever. Here is where the answer lies to at least some of your questions."  
  
He waved his wand over the surface of the silver liquid, causing it to shift faster and faster, until the liquid turned into a miniature whirlpool. Suddenly, the vortex calmed, and Percy felt like he was looking into a small window, through which he could see a square room, filled with witches and wizards sitting on bleacher-like benches. Percy looked at Dumbledore questioningly, and Dumbledore gestured towards the surface. "Go on." Percy reached out and gently touched the glowing liquid with the tips of his fingers.  
  
Instantly, he felt as if he were being pulled through the small window he'd been peering through, which was actually the truth. Suddenly, he'd landed squarely on his bottom, sitting completely upright, much to his surprise. He glanced to his left and saw Dumbledore seated next to him, though this was a different Dumbledore than the one he'd just left behind in the Burrow. It was a slightly younger Dumbledore, with fewer wrinkles around his eyes, which were fixed steadfastly on the other side of the room. Percy took a brief moment to take in his surroundings. They were in the square room he'd seen from outside the Pensieve, with absolutely no windows. Flickering torches hung randomly on the stone walls cast the only light available, and slowly Percy realized the room was silent, despite the large number of witches and wizards that occupied it.  
  
He looked to one end of the room and saw his former superior, Bartemius Crouch standing beside a large iron chair, his face set in a mask of cold indifference. Percy wondered why everyone was so quiet, until he realized that everyone had their eyes on the door at the opposite end of the room to Crouch. Percy could sense something like anticipation hanging in the air, which was suddenly broken by the door opening and four dementors sweeping in surrounding one person. The entire congregation of the room held its breath as the dementors escorted their charge to the large chair before leaving. Crouch pointed his wand at the chair causing silver straps to fly around the prisoner's wrists and ankles, securing them effectively.  
  
Percy watched all this in morbid fascination along with every other person in the room. The silence was finally broken by Crouch, who held out a long roll of parchment and started reading off it in his unfeeling voice. "Witches and wizards of the court, we are gathered here to determine the penalty of the defendant, whose charges are as follows: consortion with followers of the Dark Lord; espionage; taking the mantle of a Death Eater; murder."  
  
"Where's my uncle?" A soft voice interrupted Crouch.  
  
Crouch looked towards the chair, irritation showing on his face. "What?"  
  
"Where's my uncle? He told me that he would be here to give testimony in my favor. So where is he?" The prisoner continued. Crouch walked forward so that he was nose to nose with the criminal. "Your uncle obviously changed his mind. Can you blame him for not wanting to disgrace his family name by testifying for a no good piece of scum like you?"  
  
"Then I am already condemned." The voice was softer, but it sounded like a whip-crack throughout the room, and Percy felt the breath catch in his throat.  
  
Crouch backed away from the chair and continued with his reading. "The defendant has been found guilty on all charges and is to be sentenced to life in Azkaban without parole. Does the defendant have any last words before the sentence is enacted?" "Yes."  
  
"Then speak them now, Death Eater."  
  
"I may be going to prison, but I want all to know that I am not guilty of these charges. I did not kill anyone other than those who have actually consorted with Voldemort." A shudder ripples through the room at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, and it wasn't until this point that Percy realized how terrifying things must have really been for wizard society if they already feared his name. Unfazed, the prisoner continued. "I have never betrayed anyone, except myself and my innocent wife, who had been willing, at the end to give her own life for mine. She had thrown herself on the mercy of Voldemort, and instead of any pity, was murdered by the Dark Lord."  
  
Here Crouch stepped forward again. "You idiot. We did Priori Incantatem on your wand, and the last spell you had performed before your arrest was Avada Kedavra." The audience rumbled slightly, but once again, the prisoner didn't seem to notice.  
  
"She gave her life for mine, but what good did it do her if I'm to be locked away for the rest of my days? You wasted her sacrifice-my sacrifice—Mr. Crouch, you vindictive bastard. And now, the truly guilty party is still out there, free to go about and breathe fresh air, and I, the innocent one, am to remain my entire life having my soul sucked slowly away by those filthy demons. Ironic, when his deeds are far more abominable than anything I have ever done. But hear me now, Crouch—I, Alexander Hunter Weasley, swear, on all that I stand for, that my wife's murder will be avenged."  
  
Crouch held up his hand. "That's enough; we've heard all the senseless prattle we'll need for the day. Lock this filth up, and," he leaned forward, "make sure he never gets the chance to set foot outside the walls of Azkaban ever again."  
  
Percy watched in horror as the entourage of dementors led Alexander from the room, his head held high. But Percy could see, as he passed by the bleachers, the tears glimmering in his eyes. Percy felt his own eyes grow moist as the man was led to the dark cell from which he would ask Percy to give a message to Arthur over fifteen years later.  
  
There was a hand on Percy's shoulder, and he turned to see Dumbledore smiling sadly down at him. "Have you found everything you needed to here?" Percy nodded wordlessly, swallowing the lump that had developed in his throat. "Very well, then I suppose we should leave now." With a cold rush of air Albus Dumbledore and Percy Weasley left the aching sadness of the preserved recollection of the trial of Alexander Hunter Weasley. 


	10. Alexander's Story

"The memory is like the picture then  
  
When the paper's crumpled up it can't be perfect again."- Linkin Park, "Forgotten"  
  
Chapter Eleven: Alexander's Story  
  
Someone shaking my shoulder insistently jerks me into wakefulness. I look around, my vision clouded with fear and anger, my body trembling and covered in cold sweat. The first thing my eyes land on is Snape bent over me, his pale face grim. So real is the loathing I feel left over from the dream, that when I see the Death Eater so near, before I even realize what I am doing, I launch myself at him, my hands reaching for his throat. "You!" The word rips from me in a strangled scream. Though I am smaller in size, I have caught Snape by surprise, and knock him to the floor, where I sit on his chest, pinning him there, my hands around his neck, squeezing as hard as I can.  
  
He struggles, but can't get out from under me, his eyes wide in the first real emotion I've seen displayed there—fear. His mouth opens gasping for air, his hands gripping my wrists, trying to pry away the hold I have on him, but my anger adds to the little strength I have left, rendering all his efforts fruitless.  
  
I might kill him…I have the power in my hands to finally become the monster the wizarding world believes me to be. But, as I look down at his face, his black eyes fearful and pleading, I feel my anger fading, and I know I cannot kill him, not like this. I release my grip and stand up hastily, backing away from him. Snape pulls himself to his feet, his hand massaging his neck, inhaling deep breaths of air. I can already see the bruises my fingers left forming on his pallid skin, but I cannot apologize for hurting him, and he doesn't seem to expect me to.  
  
"Good morning to you too." Snape mutters, pulling out his wand and waving it carelessly, causing a tray filled with food to appear on the bed. I stare at it, scarcely believing that he is going to feed me after I nearly killed him. He leaves the room, and I sit, picking up a piece of toast and nibbling at it half-heartedly. I soon give up on the toast, and go to stand by the window. I can see a very pastoral countryside, with rolling hills, green pastures, and just beyond, in the far distance, I can make out the sparkle of the sun playing off the ocean surface. So peaceful and calm…so different from the bedlam whirling around in my head. I lean my head against the cool glass of the window, replaying the dream over and over in my mind.  
  
I hear Snape reenter the room and pause. "I didn't poison the food, you know." His dangerously soft voice holds an undertone of humor, but I ignore him and his dangerous voice. "Very well," he continues, "have it your way. But don't think I'm going to keep wasting my time preparing food for you like some house-elf."  
  
"Why did you do it in the first place if it was such a waste of your time?" I grit out, not turning to face him. "What did I say about asking useless questions?" I shrug. "I don't think it's a useless question. You saved me and you've taken me into your own house, and I have no clue as to why the hell you've done it. Who am I to you?"  
  
"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you." At this I spin around, my eyes narrowed. "That's the worst answer to any question ever asked. Of course I don't know, otherwise why would I be asking the goddamn question in the first place?" He arches one eyebrow at me and smirks slightly. "It's not a matter of knowing. It's a matter of understanding." I hold my head in my hands. "How can you understand something without knowing it in the first place?" Honestly, this conversation was giving me a splitting headache.  
  
"You understood that Voldemort was going to kill either you or Jakura without a second thought, because he was Voldemort. But you didn't know it before it happened." I raise my head and gape at him. "How did you know about that?"  
  
"You were talking in your sleep," he said, then he hesitates for the briefest of moments, before continuing, "and I was there when it happened."  
  
"You were there?" My voice is choked with barely constrained emotion, and maybe it's my imagination, but I see him take a tiny step back. "You saw everything? You watched as Voldemort killed an innocent woman who had done nothing…she had done…nothing…" The emotion forces its way forward, and I sit on the edge of the bed, my head buried in my hands. Snape is silent, perhaps he's dealing with his own ghosts, or maybe he's allowing me to grieve, but I'm not grieving. I'm remembering. The parts of my life that had disappeared are beginning to resurface, each falling into its place like well-formed jigsaw puzzle pieces.  
  
"Do you miss her?" Snape's voice is quiet, inquiring.  
  
"Every day. I may have forgotten who she was while I was in Azkaban, but she'd never really left me. She was always there…a little part of my mind…an aching in my heart that didn't need dementors to remind me of."  
  
"You forgot your own wife?" He sounds incredulous, but without the slightest bit of contempt one would expect from someone who's just heard you'd forgotten the most important person in your life.  
  
"Yes, I forgot. I just lived from day to day…basing my entire world on survival. I saw what they did to those who didn't try to keep sane, and I was determined not to go the same way. But now…now I'm free…and with freedom comes that which I denied myself while there. I am remembering."  
  
"What do you remember?"  
  
"Everything." I am quiet for a moment, thinking, and Snape is silent as well, just sitting there, I guess waiting for me to start speaking again, which I do.  
  
"My name is Alexander Hunter Weasley. My friends called me Arrow…get it, Hunter, Arrow…never mind that. My father was Nathaniel Weasley, Arthur Weasley's brother. Can I presume you know my Uncle Arthur?" I look at him and he nods his head, still silent. I continue. "My mother was Miranda Johnson Weasley. I was born in 1958, in Liverpool. My father was an auror, but was killed during a mission when I was five. My mother died shortly after, from some kind of cancer, they claimed. But I knew what it was, as I watched her suffer through it, just as I have suffered losing my own spouse. She died of a broken heart. Many laugh at the thought of someone dying from broken heart, but I witnessed it…I heard it crack in two as she lay upon her deathbed. After my mother's death, I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle in the Burrow—that's the name of their house. They took me in as if I was one of their own, and though they are not the wealthiest of all wizards, they offered what little they had to me with graciousness and love. I attended Hogwarts, going back and forth between school and the Burrow, making friends and helping to raise the three boys, Bill, Charlie, and Percy." I stop and think about the young man who stood in front of my cell, clueless as to who I was. 'So sad, he doesn't remember the person who gave him his first book…'  
  
"Anyway, despite my somewhat tragic beginning, I was happy. Those must have been the best years of my life. All I can remember is happiness, joy, a feeling of belonging somewhere…" here I pause and look at Snape, whose face is twisted in something I cannot describe, "I'm sorry," my tone is biting, "is this making you feel a bit nauseous?"  
  
"What? No, not at all. It just isn't the kind of tale I imagined…"  
  
"Oh, if you're expecting gore and killing curses, that comes later, so just be patient." I sneer, before falling back in into my reverie.  
  
"I remember the first time I saw Jacqueline Fairbanks. It was third year at the Gryffindor and Slytherin match. She was the new seeker for Slytherin and she caught the snitch before the game had been going for ten minutes." I chuckle quietly, remembering the moment. "I can't say I liked her immediately. This isn't that kind of love story. Actually, I didn't like her at all. I was royally pissed off, as well as were the other members of Gryffindor, that Slytherin had beaten us so quickly, and we of course placed the blame squarely on Jacqueline. I led the group that would tease her. She went through most situations that would have made every other girl in Hogwarts flee to the loo bawling without batting an eyelid. She was quite a girl, that one. And never did she 'sic' her fellow Slytherins on us either. In fact, I've always had the funniest suspicion that she kept them from ganging up on us. If only we had been that fair to her…  
  
It wasn't until sixth year that I ever experienced a moment alone with Jacqueline. We had both received detention. I had set off a Filibuster Firework in some Slytherin's cauldron during Potions, and she for having given poor Bertha Jorkins a tail. Our job was to clean the entire Infirmary, chamber pots and all, without magic. It took us nearly the entire night, but let's just say we got to talking and learned a lot more about each other than either of us would have thought possible.  
  
To make a long story short, we became friends (yes, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin can be friends, so stop looking at me like that, Snape) and by seventh year, we had fallen for each other. Perhaps we can say that both of our houses were a little perplexed by our romance; though that's a bit of an understatement. It was like that Muggle Romeo and Juliet tragedy, and like the Montagues and Capulets, our Gryffindor and Slytherin were livid. Jacqueline and I became sort of outcasts…but we didn't care. We had each other. The second we graduated from Hogwarts, I proposed to her. We were married the summer after graduation.  
  
We were inseparable—till death do us part—we even worked the same jobs at the Ministry. Uncle Arthur found us spots in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, and we were quite useful there, considering how I spent my early childhood and the fact that Jackie's parents were Muggles.  
  
Anyway, at this time, Voldemort had been rising in power and had nearly complete control over the wizarding world. I'm sure you remember that time." I cast Snape a dark look, which he seems to ignore, though his eyes grow slightly blacker, if that's possible. "At the Ministry, it was nearly impossible to tell which side people were on. Everyone was under suspicion of being a Death Eater, or somehow consorting with Voldemort's followers. Uncle Arthur and another wizard, Drew Callahan, decided to form a small group of witches and wizards they knew hadn't gone to the other side. Jackie and I were immediately recruited, with only a little grumbling on the side about her being a former Slytherin.  
  
We were the unrecognized heroes—though we didn't mind that. In fact, we were pleased that no one knew who had been capturing and killing Death Eaters, that way Voldemort would have a harder time tracking us down. However, just in case an insider came across information concerning us, we took on nicknames. As you've probably guessed, I was Arrow. Jacqueline was Jakura." I pause as Snape looks at me questioningly.  
  
"In Japanese, Sakura means cherry blossom. I just played with it combining her name and the word, calling her my Jakura. My little cherry blossom…" I trail off, and Snape looks away towards the window, giving me the time I need to pull myself together. It's been so hard, living all these years without thinking, and then suddenly being reminded of everything at once. I swallow hard and start speaking again. "Our names protected us from any possible spies outside or inside the Ministry. For a while it did work. But our success wouldn't last long. Somehow, someone discovered who we were, and they leaked the information to the Dark Lord. He let news 'slip' of a small Death Eater meeting in a forest near Oxford. Callahan chomped down on the bait immediately, while my uncle was a little more cautious about it. He couldn't understand how we'd gotten the clue so easily, but Callahan was insistent that we take the chance while we could, or, to directly quote him, 'Grab the bull by the horns, Arthur, grab the bull by the horns!' So we did…we went to the forest on the night designated for the meeting.  
  
There we split into twos…Green and Spark (Callahan and Arthur), Jakura and I, and two others called Joker and Flyaway. Now that I think about it, it was most ridiculous thing we'd ever done before, but we were anxious to bring more Death Eaters to justice, and I suppose we were blind to the obvious.  
  
We were there for nearly the entire night, with no trace of the Death Eaters whatsoever. We found Green and Spark sometime near dawn, and asked them if we should call it a night. Green was a stubborn fool though…he said to keep looking until we had proof that there'd been no Death Eater meeting. We split up again, and just as the sun was starting to rise, Jakura heard something through the trees. I hadn't heard anything, but she insisted that she go investigate, and I, being the obtuse git I was, allowed her to go. She came back, said she found the Death Eaters…and then we were surrounded. Well, you know that part of the story, don't you?" I say blandly, staring at him. Snape shifts slightly in his chair, and I believe I spy regret in those shadowy eyes of his, but he still says nothing. I sigh. "Well, when I was brought back to consciousness, I found Green and Joker looking down at me. Jakura was lying on the other side of the clearing, Flyaway checking her pulse. I managed to stand up and get to her side, where my worst fears were confirmed. Voldemort had killed her, my wife…my love.  
  
Green and Joker had to haul me away from her so they could transport her to the nearest hospital. All the way there, I just kept saying one thing, 'Why bother? She's already gone.' At the hospital, before the mediwizards could confirm that which I was aware of, Green pulled me to the side. He looked me straight in the eye and asked, in a voice so low, I could hardly hear him, 'How could you do it, Arrow? How could you betray us in this way? And taking the life of your own wife.' I was too stunned to speak as I was dragged out of the hospital by two guards from Azkaban; not the dementors, mind you, not yet.  
  
I don't know what happened to my uncle. I thought he was with Green, at least, he was supposed to be. But Green had told me in the clearing, that Spark had gone to the Ministry to inform them of what had happened. When I was in an Azkaban holding cell, Green had visited me several times, explaining that my uncle couldn't bear to bring himself to visit me. I did receive an owl from him once…it said he was ashamed by what I had done, but would be there to testify for my character in court. It was most definitely his handwriting and signature, and I owled him back, pleading my innocence with him. I got no answer. However, I clung to the belief he would be there for me when it came time for the hearing. But he never showed up. Crouch said he didn't want to tarnish the family name by testifying to some scum like me. And I think, out of all his mistakes and inaccurate claims, Crouch was right about this one thing. How could Arthur not come to court unless he was humiliated by what I had done to the family honor? That's when I knew I was never to be free again.  
  
At first I was furious, screaming my innocence at the top of my lungs in Azkaban until I couldn't talk anymore. When I found that nothing would help me, I decided to be silent, and accept the punishment I was receiving. I thought of it as punishment for not having done more to protect Jakura…for not having giving my life for hers right away. And so I lived. For seventeen years, I endured Azkaban, thinking it only to be a meet penalty for my past sins."  
  
I finish and we sit there, in a silence so thick, one could hack through it with a dull butter knife; each being haunted by our own specters of the past. For him, it's his own regrets and guilt of a pledge he wish he'd never taken; for me, my own regrets and guilt, and the recollections of Jakura, my little cherry blossom.  
  
  
  
A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up, but it was really involved, and I had to work carefully so as not to screw it up and mess up the entire plot. Whew. So, there it is. No, the story isn't complete, I've got soooo much more work to do! Argh! Anyways, r/r's are always welcome. ^_^ 


	11. Conspiracy Theory

Chapter 12: Conspiracy Theory

            I don't know how long we've been sitting here, each wrapped up in our own little worlds.  It seems like eons before Snape gets to his feet and starts pacing around the room.  I remain where I am, watching him dully.  He suddenly stops and looks at me.

            "You mentioned that it was Callahan who was the first to accuse you of having murdered your wife, am I correct?" He asks slowly.

            I nod.  "Yes.  At the hospital…"

            "Have you ever considered that he may have been the insider at the Ministry?" He interrupts me.

            "What?" I look at him shocked that he could even think to accuse Drew of such a thing.  "You are kidding, right? Green was the leader of our group.  Why would he betray us?  What motive could he possibly have?"

            Snape laughs harshly.  "Motive?  Who said anything about a motive?  Who needs a motive when he's a certified Death Eater?"  I feel my jaw drop.

            "Death Eater?  Surely you can't be serious.  There was no mark on his arm…we all checked…"

            "How did you know about the Dark Mark in the first place?" Snape interrupts me again.

            "I…we got information about it…from an outside source…I never bothered to check up on it…" I stammer.

            "You do realize with that knowledge of the Dark Mark you could have been able to save many innocent people from being put into Azkaban, do you not?"  His tone is bitter and I feel something quail inside of me.  

            "I should have.  But none of us thought to…"

            "Only you and your uncle didn't think to.  The rest were well aware of what such information could do, and were determined to do so.  Voldemort made sure they didn't allow you two to figure it out.  Oh yes, he made sure of it."

            "Wait, what do you mean only me and my uncle?  Jakura didn't think of it either." I protest.  Snape stares at me with an odd glint in those black eyes of his.  "Unless…" I start thinking aloud to myself, "You are suggesting Jakura was a part of this?  No!  No, it's not possible!"  I leap up from the bed, knocking the tray to the ground with a resounding clatter.  "How dare you?  How could you possibly think such a thing?  Jakura was not a part of Voldemort's circle!  Just because she was a Slytherin doesn't mean that she turned to the Dark Side."  I advance on him, my hands balled into fists, but he whips out his wand quickly and points it straight at my forehead.  I stop in my tracks and glare at him with all the hatred I could possible.

            "You gullible fool." He spits. "You are so blinded by your Gryffindor sense of honor that you are oblivious to what is standing right in front of you.  I was a Death Eater…part of the Dark Lord's innermost circle.  Do you not think I wouldn't know who my fellow Death Eaters were?"

            "I don't know; you all seem fond of parading around in those masks of yours.  I'm surprised if you ever actually saw each others cowardly faces." I snarl.  Snape's face is contorted in an unnamable emotion and the hand holding the wand is shaking so badly that a few sparks fly out the tip of it, bouncing off my forehead.  

            "I am no coward."

            "Then why are you still a Death Eater?"

            "I am a spy for Dumbledore.  How can you call that cowardly?"

            "Peter Pettigrew was a spy as well.  He's a coward." I state simply.  Snape stares at me, his hand lowering slightly.  I take the moment to move forward again, but the wand flies back up.  

            "Don't give me the chance, Weasley.  I will act in self-defense and make my apologies to Dumbledore afterwards."

            "Dumbledore?  Albus Dumbledore?  What does he have to do with this?" I ask bemused.  

            Snape snorts loudly.  "I am a spy, remember?  I told him exactly what happened at Azkaban, and about you.  He should be here in an hour or so.  He wishes to speak to you…let's say you've piqued his curiosity."  I take a step back, my head still reeling about the implications he's made about my wife.  

            "How could you possibly know if _my wife_ were involved with Voldemort?  I knew everything there was to know about Jakura…" I sputter, trying to return to our former thread of conversation.

            "You think you knew your wife so well?  Where do you think she went every night at midnight?" Snape asks, an evil sneer smeared across his thin face.

            "She never went anywhere.  I have no idea what you are talking about!" I practically yell at him.

            "Tell me…are you a heavy sleeper?  Did you ever feel the urge to fall asleep before eleven at night?" Snape queried matter-of-factly.  

            "No." I lie stoutly, crossing my arms over my chest.  

            Snape laughs softly.  "I find your denial quite amusing, Weasley.  But the fact remains that your wife…"

            "Had nothing to do with your group of scum." I interrupt, my scorn biting.  "And neither did Callahan or anyone else from our group.  The fact that you can stand there and accuse my wife of betraying my trust right to my face astounds me, Snape.  Only you would have the gall.  So tell me, if you knew I was innocent the entire time, why didn't you report it to Dumbledore after turning spy so that he could release me?"

            "Another useless question, Weasley.  You seem to be packed full of them."

            "You pretentious bastard," I growl, "How can a question concerning my own life be useless?  It is _my _life, godammit, and I have a right to know why I've lost half of it rotting in Azkaban when there was someone out there who knew of my innocence!"

            "Calm down, Weasley.  What could have Dumbledore done to release you?  He would have had to explain where he'd gotten the information from.  As great a wizard as he is the jury wouldn't have just accepted his word.  Then my name would have come up and the game would be over.  It was a choice between one innocent life and thousands of innocent lives.  I chose those thousands." Snape explains slowly.

            "No, you were just afraid Voldemort would have discovered what you were and would have killed you.  That's the real reason, isn't it?" I sneer at him.  He sighs and shakes his head.  

            "I see the family tradition of thick-headedness has passed through to you.  I supposed that thick skull of yours is what saved you from the dementors."  That is the last straw for me.  Without thinking, I launch myself at him.  His reaction is quick and he yells _"Petrificus Totalus!"_  Instantly my mouth is clamped shut, my arms and legs slam against my body, and I fall flat on my face in front of him.  He rolls me onto my back with his foot and sneers down at me. 

            "Ah, Weasley, I told you I wouldn't hesitate to act out of self-defense.  I couldn't very well have you try and strangle me again.  Now I'm afraid you must remain like that until Dumbledore arrives.  Come, shall we go downstairs to wait for him?"  

I narrow my eyes at him, the only part of my body capable of movement at the moment, but he merely gives his humorless laugh, mutters, "_Mobilius Corpus"_ and I'm floating several feet off the ground.  "Please, follow me."  My body floats after him as he walks out the bedroom door and down the stairs to his living room.  He directs my stiff body to the couch where I suddenly drop and land safely, still on my back.  He looms over me, that strange grin still on his face.  "Now, if you wouldn't mind just waiting here, I have some letters to write before the Headmaster arrives.  So, just make yourself comfortable."  I make a small, choking noise and he pats the top of my head before sweeping out of the living room, leaving me unable to move, helpless with fury and the body bind. 


	12. When Weasley met Weasley

Chapter 13: When Weasley met Weasley

            Percy sat on the couch staring straight ahead of him.  His mind was still reeling from what he'd just witnessed in the Pensieve.  It was very confusing.  He took what he knew about his father and tried comparing it to what Crouch had said to Alexander Weasley and it didn't work.  Arthur didn't give a damn about family honor, and he knew it.  It had always been the Weasley family belief that principles and morals came before any personal or family reputation.  Then why hadn't he gone to the inquest?  

Percy barely registered what was going on around him until Dumbledore tapped him on the shoulder, giving Percy a sharp reminder of the Headmaster's presence.  He looked at Dumbledore blankly and the older wizard smiled benevolently  "Percy, I'm afraid we must go somewhere now."

            "What?" Percy said dazedly, "Where do we have to go?"

            "I received an owl from Professor Snape today, just before I came here.  He has a prisoner he rescued from Azkaban before the rest of the Death Eaters could kill him.  Perhaps he knows something about your Arrow and I thought you might care to interrogate him."

Percy was on his feet in a flash.  "Yes, of course, Professor.  I would like to ask him a few questions."

"Good, I though you would." Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Here are the coordinates of Professor Snape's house," he handed Percy a piece of parchment with several numbers written on it, "and I will see you there, young Weasley."

            "Thank you, Professor." Percy said before Albus Dumbledore Disapparated with a small pop.  Scanning the coordinates quickly, Percy then scribbled out a note explaining he had gone to get some extra work done, feeling a slight pang of guilt.  He'd never really lied before, at least not to his family, but this was absolutely necessary.  He stood in the middle of the living room and prepared to Apparate, slightly nervous at the thought of going to Professor Snape's house.  He'd never really cared for the Potions Master during his school years at Hogwarts, though he'd had to deal with Snape on more than one occasion.  Such was the plight of the Head Boy.  He took a deep breath and Apparated.  

            Percy was slightly surprised to find himself on a well-manicured lawn in front of a cute, little white country cottage.  There wasn't another house in sight for miles, the house being surrounded by woods and rolling fields.  Percy imagined he heard the faint sound of the ocean in the distance as he climbed the lawn to the front door where Dumbledore stood waiting for him.  

            "So glad you could make it, Mr. Weasley.  Would you like to ring the doorbell, or shall I?"  

            Percy gaped at him.  "Professor Snape has a doorbell?  I thought…"

            "Yes, the Professor's personality would suggest a slightly different manner of living arrangements than these.  However, this isn't his only house.  He has a manor somewhere that is more suitable to his tastes.  Let's just say this is a place where he can get away from things to…reflect.  I suppose I shall ring the doorbell, then."  Dumbledore explained jovially before pressing the small button next to the door.  It was opened a moment later, the tall Potions Professor filling the doorjamb space ominously.  He nodded at Dumbledore before looking at Percy with unhidden disbelief.  

            "Professor, how are you?" Dumbledore said brightly, "Holding up well, I suppose?"  

            "As well as can be expected." Snape said coolly, still looking at Percy.  Percy felt his ears go slightly red as he held out his hand to the Professor.  

            "It's good to see you again, Professor.  It's been a long time."  

Snape took his hand lightly and released it almost immediately.  "Come in." He stepped back and gestured for them to enter.  Dumbledore practically trotted in with Percy close on his heels, afraid Snape would shut the door before he could get through.  

"So, Severus, where is this prisoner of yours?  Not causing any trouble, I hope."  Dumbledore smiled, looking around him expectantly.  

Snape's face twisted into what looked like a half sneer, half grimace.  "Oh, we've had our difficulties.  I managed to get him cleaned and fed before we started finding out we have issues with each other.  I was forced to put a body bind on the man.  He's on the couch, over there."  Snape pointed, and Percy peered around Dumbledore's back.  He could see the form of a man lying unnaturally straight on the sofa, arms and legs clenched tightly to his body.  

"Oh, Severus, was that absolutely necessary?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Snape said shortly, "He tried to kill me twice in one day.  He's strong for someone who's been shut up in jail for fifteen years."  

            With a shrug, Dumbledore moved to the couch and peered down at the man there.  "We will remove the body bind if you promise not to try and take Professor Snape's life.  Blink twice if you swear it." Dumbledore instructed, and Percy could hear a note of amusement in the Headmaster's warm voice.  The man must have blinked twice because Dumbledore lifted his wand and waved it lazily.  The man struggled into a sitting position, rubbing his legs gingerly and glaring at Snape.  Percy gasped.  It was Alexander Weasley.  

            Alexander must have heard Percy because he looked sharply at him, his eyes widening in surprise.  "Percy?" He said softly in his hoarse voice.  Both Snape and Dumbledore looked at Percy who moved forward slowly until he was standing in front of Alexander.  

            "Percy, is it really you?" Alexander continued his voice breaking sporadically, "After all these years…you've grown up so much…"  

Percy did the only thing he could think of.  He reached out his hand to Alexander who stared at it in disbelief, before hesitantly stretching out his own hand and grasping Percy's firmly.  

"It's good to meet you, Alexander." Percy murmured.  Alexander nodded his head, his face twisting into the first real smile he'd had since that day in Azkaban months ago.

"Likewise, Percy, likewise." Alexander breathed, and to Percy's surprise, tears welled up in the former convict's eyes. 

            They stayed in the living room with Snape supplying tea and cake as well as a full dinner for Alexander, who hadn't had anything to eat really since the day before.  

"Eat it all, Weasley. You need it." Snape had growled at the stubborn looking Alexander.  To Percy's surprise, Alexander complied after giving Snape a suspicious glance.  While they ate, Alexander repeated the story he'd told Snape earlier that day.  Percy listened in disbelief and horror, his tea forgotten.  His mind jumped immediately to the conclusion that it wasn't his father's fault that he hadn't been able to stop the group from going to look for the Death Eater meeting.  He shuddered as he listened to Alexander's description of his wife's death.  Percy was shocked at the ease with which the man used You-Know-Who's name, but it didn't seem to surprise Snape or Dumbledore, who merely sat there listening silently. 

After Alexander finished his story Dumbledore leaned forward towards him, his usually twinkling blue eyes grave.  "How difficult this must have been for you, Alexander.  Believe me, if I'd only known of your innocence, I would have had you removed from Azkaban in an instant."  

"Snape knew." Alexander said, throwing said man a venomous glare, "Yet he did nothing.  He watched them kill my wife and frame me and then he allowed me to rot in Azkaban for _seventeen years._"  

Dumbledore reached his hand out and touched Alexander's knee in a calming gesture.  Alexander stared at it in surprise.  _He can't be used to people touching him._  Percy thought distractedly.  

"You mustn't be angry at Snape for this.  He must have a very good reason for not informing me of your innocence."  Dumbledore advised quietly.  

Alexander shrugged and Percy could tell he didn't believe Dumbledore.  The elderly wizard stood, gesturing for Snape to do likewise.  "Professor, I believe I haven't yet seen this lovely estate.  Perhaps you could show me around while we allow our two companions a small family reunion?"  With a small nod at Percy, Dumbledore walked out of the room, followed closely by Snape who gave Alexander a warning look.  

"Don't try and run away again, Weasley.  You know you can't get that far in your condition."  

Alexander glared at Snape who looked about ready to shake a finger at him before changing his mind and leaving the room as well.  The convict laughed humorlessly.  "I used to terrorize that man when he was a quaking first year at Hogwarts, can you believe that?  Now he's the one throwing body binds around like they're going out of style."  He paused and looked at Percy. "I remember when you got your first pair of glasses.  You had just turned three.  I picked out the frames for you…the ones that were really popular at the time in the Muggle world.  You still have the same design I see…unless…those are the same glasses."

Percy nodded removing the glasses and handing them to his now restored cousin who twirled them in his bony fingers, inspecting them carefully.

"Well," he said at last, "You've taken good care of them."

"I've become quite adept at repairing charms.  It's difficult to keeps ones glasses in one piece as a child, especially with twin brothers whose only wish is to cause as much trouble as they possibly can." Percy explained.  

Alexander returned his glasses.  "You have twin brothers now?"

"Yes, as well as another younger brother and a little sister.  She's the baby."

"I suppose your parents were very busy." Alexander chuckled a little to himself, but the joke seemed to fly right over Percy's head.  

"Oh yes," he said, "Having seven children can be quite difficult to manage, and Mother was under a lot of strain for awhile.  I tried to help the best I could by not getting in the way.  It became easier when I went to Hogwarts."

"I'm sure they must have appreciated that." Truthfully, Alexander knew Percy's parents would probably have preferred that Percy be in the way as much as possible, but he wouldn't tell him that.  Instead, he asked, "How are Molly and Arthur?"

"They are doing very well.  Father still works for the Ministry in the Muggle Artifacts Department."

"And is Molly still the best chef this side of Diagon Alley?"

Percy grinned.  "Of course.  If anything, her cooking's improved over the years."  Percy hesitated.  "Listen, Alexander…"

"You can call me Alex, if you wish." He said gently.

"Um…okay…Alex, I want to apologize for what happened to you.  Yes," he held up his hand to silence the older man, "I realize it wasn't my fault, I had nothing to do with it.  But I want to apologize for how my father acted.  Honestly, I wouldn't have expected him to behave in such a manner.  I delivered your message to him…but he didn't seem to remember you at all.  He recalled the names Arrow and Jakura as well as the secret group you were in, but he couldn't remember who Arrow was.  I am so sorry, if I had known I would have done everything in my power to get you out of that jail."  Percy took a deep breath and Alexander…Alex…smiled sadly at him.  

"I understand, Percy.  You're right—it wasn't your fault.  But I don't think it was your father's fault either.  While immobilized," here he looked in the direction Snape had taken with distaste, "I thought back on things.  It seems entirely possible that a Death Eater caught up with your father and Obliviated him.  He probably didn't even know about Jakura being killed or me being arrested.  I don't even think he remembers who Alexander _is_ anymore."

"We could _make_ him remember." Percy said desperately, "You could come back to the Burrow with me I'm sure he would remember you by just looking at you."

Alex shook his head, the sad smile still on his face.  "I'm afraid it wouldn't be that simple, Percy.  Have you ever dealt with someone who's lost their memory?"

"It's not an easy thing." Came a voice from the doorway.  They both looked up to see Snape and Dumbledore walk back into the room.  Snape was frowning slightly at Alexander, whose smile disappeared instantly the second he entered, though Dumbledore was looking positively tickled.  

"Have you two caught up?" He said cheerfully.  

"It's been so many years, Professor." Alex replied, "It would take much longer than a few minutes to catch up on a lifetime."  

Dumbledore nodded understandingly.  "Of course, and there will be plenty of time later.  However, we must think about the present and what is going to happen with our dear friend Alexander." He sat in a big cushy armchair, settling himself comfortably.  "Now, as beautiful as this place is," Here Snape flinched as though Dumbledore had just insulted the petunias lining his garden, his scowl deepening, "It is not practical to leave you here alone and unprotected while Professor Snape returns to Hogwarts to resume classes.  Now, there is a job opening there as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor…"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Snape interrupted, "What about Lupin?  Hasn't he been teaching that since September?"  At the same exact time Percy asked, "Why does Alex need to be protected?"  The two men glanced at each other in slight surprise.

The Headmaster waved his hand idly.  "Yes, he left to visit Romania for an unforeseen length of time.  We're hoping to curry some favor among the werewolves and giants in Eastern Europe.  However, we do need a substitute until he returns.  I thought, with your previous experience with the Dark Arts that you'd be capable of handling a few months of Hogwarts curriculum, Alexander," Dumbledore gave Alexander a fleeting look before continuing,  "As we all know, Voldemort released the prisoners from Azkaban reclaim whatever supporters he had in there.  He knew they would be twice as furious at the Ministry for putting them there and would be more than willing to return to him.  He also believes that those who were innocent would probably be ten times as angry at the Ministry for their wrongful incarcerations and would be disposed to do anything for revenge.  Should he discover that his minions let one who knows almost everything about his inner-circle escape, he will no doubt be very upset and seek to remedy their mistake at whatever cost.  That is why we must keep you hidden and protected, Mr. Weasley.  Of course, you would be required to go under an alias in case, though it's very unlikely, we have our own _insider_ at Hogwarts.  Only Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and myself will be aware of your true identity."

"When will I be able to see Percy again?" Alexander asked, and Percy looked at him in surprise at the desperation in his voice.

Dumbledore smiled indulgently.  "Whenever Percy is able to visit from the Ministry, I'm sure.  You will make plans to take a few days off to visit Hogwarts in the near future, won't you, Mr. Weasley?  We always enjoy it when alumni stop in, especially former Head Boys."

"You were Head Boy?" Alex asked, and Percy turned to see Alex's eyes showing a spark of emotion—pride.  

"Yes, I was." Percy smiled with a bit of the satisfaction he'd felt at the accomplishment.  "And I will take a couple of days off…I'm sure I've earned a small vacation by now.  I haven't missed a day of work since I started…except for…" He gave a small gasp, his eyes widening, horrified, "I missed a day this week!  Oh no, I'm sure I've fallen behind, how will I make it up?  I will have to get so much done by tomorrow…" He trailed off at the sound of Alex chuckling.  "What is it?" 

"You sound exactly like I did when I was your age.  I couldn't bear to miss one day of work, and I would often stay long after everyone else had gone home." Alexander smiled at him.

"Yes, until about ten or eleven, and then you decided you were too tired to pull off a full night's worth of work and went home to your loving wife." Snape's voice drawled from where he sat, arms crossed over his chest.  

Alexander leapt off the sofa, his hands balling into fists once again.  "I'm warning you Snape, I may have to break the promise I made to Professor Dumbledore if you make one more allusion to the idea that Jakura…could have…possibly…" Seemingly exhausted from his outburst he sank back onto the sofa, his chin on his chest, eyes staring down at his hands still clenched tightly into fists.  He jumped slightly when someone laid their hand on his shoulder.  He looked up to see Percy pulling his hand away quickly, his brown eyes filled with worry.  Alexander smiled reassuringly.  "You have your mother's eyes."

"I was thinking it might be a good idea that we return to Hogwarts tonight.  I'm sure young Weasley would prefer going home to get some of the work he missed finished." Dumbledore continued, apparently unfazed by the recent drama, "And do not worry, Alexander, you will see your cousin soon enough.  One final question before we part ways this evening.  Would you care to have Percy tell his father about you now or would you prefer to wait?"

"Wait." Came the definite answer.  "I don't want him to know about me until I find a way to make him remember me indubitably.  Is that alright with you, Percy?"

"I can't say I like lying to my family…"

"You don't have to lie, just don't say anything at all." 

Percy felt his sense of honor rising, but he fought it down.  He would do this for Alexander because he needed it.  "Very well.  I will not mention anything of you to them.  And when I come to visit during Christmas, I'll say I'm visiting Ron and Ginny as well as catching up with some of the professors.  _That won't be a lie.  Mother and Father plan to visit Charlie in Romania, so Ron and Ginny will most definitely remain at Hogwarts over Christmas vacation."_

"A Gryffindor's sense of honor." Snape's cold voice muttered.  

Alexander shot him a sharp look before nodding at Percy.  "Good plan."

With that, Dumbledore stood, followed by the other three men, though Alexander swayed unsteadily.  In a flash Snape had his hand under Alexander's arm. To Percy's amazement, with no more protest than a sour look, Alexander accepted his help.  They walked out of the front door, which Snape locked with a whispered charm.  

Alexander held out his hand to Percy, which he accepted right away in a firm handshake, with Alexander saying, "I hope to see you soon Percy.  We have much to discuss."

"Yes.  I'll owl you as soon as I can.  It was a pleasure to meet you at last."

"The feeling's mutual, Percy.  Safe journey."  

Percy said a quick farewell to Dumbledore and Snape before Disapparating with a small pop.  Albus Dumbledore turned to them and shook Alexander Weasley's hand as well.  "It has been wonderful meeting you, Mr. Weasley.  Hogwarts is very lucky having a professor such as yourself coming in.  Take care, and until we meet again, adieu."  With a nod to Severus Snape and another small pop the Headmaster Disapparated.    

Alexander looked expectantly at Snape.  "Where to next?"

"Diagon Alley." Snape replied.  

"I thought we were going to Hogwarts." Alexander said, feeling very much like a whining child.  

The look Snape gave him told him he must sound like a whining child.  "First we must get you a wand from Ollivander's, as well as some money from your Gringott's account.  You _have_ an account, correct?"

"Yes."

"Good, that saves us the inconvenience of having to withdraw from the Hogwarts account.  _Then_ we will go to Hogwarts via Floo Powder, in time for the beginning of Christmas break.  You will have enough time to become acquainted with the curriculum you are to be teaching."  Snape explained in his usual cold manner.  

"Sounds fine." Alexander said quietly.  

"I'm glad it sits so well with you," Snape sneered, "Now, if you don't mind, we'll be on our way."  With that he grabbed Alexander's arm again and prepared to Disapparate.  As the rush of dark and cold air hit him once again, the realization of where he was going hit him like a mad bludger.  He was going to be at Hogwarts for Christmas.  _Christmas at Hogwarts…who would've believed it…_

A/N:  Tada!  There you go for now!  Oh, this isn't over, not by a long shot, but I think it's coming through pretty nicely, don't you?  I will get more up so don't let your knickers get in a twist!  ^_~   There's so much more to do!  Agh!  No worries, though!   


	13. Welcome to Hogwarts

Chapter 14:  Welcome to Hogwarts

            I stand here before the gates leading to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a brand new suitcase clutched tight in either hand, watching the two wild pig statues paw impatiently at the pillars on which they are situated.  Snape is slightly behind me holding another suitcase that belongs to me and I can almost feel the irritation radiating from him.  

            We had traveled to the Three Broomsticks using the Floo Network after getting all of the necessities from Diagon Alley.  Necessities include: a new wand (8 and ¾ inches, cedar, with dragon heartstring), three sets of robes, several shirts, trousers, socks, shoes, and**ahem** undergarments, a pair of dragon hide gloves, a revised edition of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ (by Newton Scamander), a revised edition of _Dangerous Curses and How to Stop Them_, various toiletries, and one Puffskein.  Snape had been quite annoyed when I insisted on buying one, staring down that long nose of his as I paid merely five Galleons of my savings for the small ball of custard colored fur and muttering something along the lines of, "What value anyone sees in those useless fuzz balls is beyond me."

            Truthfully, I bought the Puffskein for the comfort it provides.  It may not have many magical qualities, unless you count the extraordinarily long tongue that likes to pick bogies from your nose in the middle of the night, but it is a good companion when you need something to cuddle.  All right, I didn't explain my reasons fully for getting the Puffskein to Snape—I don't think he would quite believe a hardened ex-Azkaban convict could possible feel the need for something soft to snuggle up to.  I tell you one can get quite tired of stony walls and iron chains after a while and the dementors certainly are not the first choice for cuddle companions.  

            I reach into my pocket and give the Puffskein a gentle squeeze and causing it to start humming contentedly.  

            "Well?" Snape's voice snaps from behind me. "Do you plan on going through the gates sometime soon or would you rather waiting around for the Dark Lord's cronies to pick you up?"

            I turn my head slightly, shrugging.  "It's been a long time since I've seen the castle."

            "You are making it longer every minute you stand there gawping like a fish out of water.  Now, stop loitering and get moving." Snape mutters impatiently.  

I move forward slowly, walking up the long drive leading to the castle of Hogwarts.  As it comes into view, I stop again, drinking in the sight of the tall turrets, flying buttresses, and magnificent stained glass windows.  Snape doesn't realize soon enough that I've stopped moving and slams into me from behind, nearly knocking me over.

"What is it now?" He demands edgily.  

I rub my arm where the suitcase he's carrying smashed into me.  "I just wanted to take a look at a place I haven't seen for nearly half my life.  I was hoping to try and see if has changed any from how I remember it.  But that is being made almost impossible by your acting like a mad bludger, Snape."

His face darkens slightly.  "I apologize for not meeting with your romantic sensibilities, Weasley, but you will have plenty of time to view the castle at your leisure later."  I can hear the barely controlled anger lurking beneath that mellifluous voice of his, a silent warning to make no more protestations.

I shrug again, choosing to head that warning and not to argue with him this time, and move forward lugging my things behind me.  I am scarcely able to lift the bulky bags, but am unwilling to show Snape my weakness for two reasons.  One, he would rub it in my face.  And two, he would then help me.  I assure you I don't have too much of, what did he call it, "Gryffindor pride" to accept his help should he offer it.  However, he would spend the rest of his life making sure I never forget the favor.

So I continue to drag the heavy bags without a word, hoping the path is shorter than I remember it being.  

A half hour later, I pull myself and the luggage up the stairs leading to the huge double doors with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned proudly in the oak wood.  It takes all of my willpower and strength not to collapse within the entrance hall.  Snape sweeps past me through the doorway, pulling a small silver bell from somewhere in the folds of his robes and ringing it.  Seconds later two little house-elves appear, scuttling quickly down the hallway, their comically large ears flapping behind them.  They skid to a halt in front of Snape.

"What is Professor Snape wanting?" one with large green eyes asks in a high-pitched voice.  

"Take all of these bags to Professor Lupin's old rooms." Snape commands imperiously.  The other elf, one with watery brown eyes holds up a shaking hand.  Snape arches an eyebrow at the elf, his frown deepening.  "What is it?"

"Sir, Professor Lupin is not left yet." the elf says timidly, "Professor Lupin is not leaving until the end of Christmas holidays, sir…" The elf trails off as Snape towers above her, his scowl deeper than ever. 

"What do you mean he hasn't left yet?" he growls.  "He was supposed to leave yesterday.  Leave it to Lupin never to do what he says he's going to." He mutters to no one in particular.  

I clear my throat slightly.  "I suppose it's fine if I just go to some guest quarters for now.  I can move into the faculty wing after Professor Lupin leaves."  The elves look up questioningly at Snape.

"Fine." He snaps.  "You two," he turns on the two now quaking elves, "Take Professor…Burdock's bags to a guest room for now."

"Yes, sir!" They intoned, snapping their long fingers, causing the bags to float in the air and follow them down the hallway. 

"And if Professor Burdock finds one item missing, you'll be answering to me!" Snape called after them.  Both elves cast frightened glances over their shoulders before disappearing around the corner.  

"Do you really think house-elves have any inclination to steal, Professor Snape?" A gentle voice laced with amusement said from behind me.  Snape and I spin around to find a lanky man with graying brown hair in much darned and worn robes watching us with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.  "And are you really so anxious to see me leave?  I thought you would miss me terribly."

Snape snarls something inarticulate causing the other man's face to break out into a full smile.  "It's good to see you again, as well.  Aren't you going to introduce us, Severus?"

"Professor Remus Lupin, this is Professor…"

"Professor Finley Burdock," I say shortly, not trusting Snape to come up with a decent name for me, moving forward to shake Lupin's hand.  He takes my hand, smiling warmly, hazel eyes sparkling.  I manage something of a smile in return, saying woodenly, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise and welcome to Hogwarts.  I was curious as to whom they chose to take my place during my absence." He turns to Snape.  "I'm surprised you didn't offer to substitute for me.  The students informed me on multiple occasions that you have longed for the position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for quite some time now."

If it is possible, Snape paled even further, his thin lips tightening into a narrow line.  "Potter must have told you that." He spat, "Only he could come up with such a preposterous idea."  

I decide to stop this conversation before it could turn really ugly.  "Potter?  Not Harry Potter?"  If I imagined that this change of subject would help this chat, I was sorely mistaken.  

Snape draws himself to his full height, pulling his robes tightly around his body, his eyes turning colder and blacker than I had yet seen them.  "Yes, Harry Potter." His voice is filled with something I can only define as pure hatred. "Famous Harry bloody Potter."

There's a slight scuffle down the hallway and I look quickly to find there was no one there.  Neither Lupin nor Snape seem to have noticed sound.

"Come now, Severus, Harry's not all that bad." Lupin says, laughing gently, "Besides, it's not like he asks for the fame.  Fame seems to find him."

"Next thing you'll be saying is that trouble finds him as well." Snape scowls unpleasantly, "The boy believes he can do anything just because of who he is.  The things he's be able to get away with over the past five years…"

"Now, now," Lupin says consolingly, "He is still just a child after all." He turns to me.  "I'm sure you'll find him to be quite likeable, Professor Burdock."

"Please call me Finley." I say, "I suppose I'll have to decide for myself when I meet him, won't I?"

Lupin gives me another warm smile.  "Of course."

"We must be going to see Professor Dumbledore now." Snape interrupts and sweeps up the hallway, calling over his shoulder, "As much as a pleasure as it has been to talk to you, Lupin, I'm afraid you must find another time to talk to Professor Burdock."  

I nod at Lupin and follow Snape quickly, making a small note of a door being closed quickly to my right.  Someone had been listening to our conversation that much was for sure…but who?

A/N:  Puffskeins can be found in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.  They sound like fun little guys, don't they?  ^_^  Next chapter should be up real real soon.  __And we get to see Harry Potter for the first time!  Yay!  (Honestly,  I don't know how I've managed to go this long in an HP fic without mentioning the his name…oh well…)_


	14. Who is Burdock?

Chapter 15:  Who _is_ Burdock?

            Harry Potter awoke to the sound of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan flinging clothes and various items around the room, their idea of packing for the vacation.  He groaned and buried his head into his pillow willing them silently to be quiet and let him get a few more minutes sleep.  However, his best friend, Ron Weasley, had other plans.  

            "Harry, wake up!  Come on, we missed breakfast."

            "Don't care, not hungry." Harry mumbled into the pillow.  Something bounced off the back of his head causing him to look up groggily.  Ron was standing next to his bed, the velvet hangings pulled back.  "Wha'choo throw at me?" Harry demanded, trying vainly to clear his sleep-clogged mind. 

            "Socks.  Now get up before I get a book from Hermione to chuck at you next." Ron threatened.  

            Harry sat up, pulling on his glasses, the world coming into focus.  "Okay, I'm up, I'm up."  He rolled out of bed slowly crossing to the bathroom staring at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.  

            "Well, don't you look chipper this morning." The mirror said in its wheezy voice. 

            "I've felt better." Harry muttered around the mouthful of toothpaste.  He finished cleaning up and wandered out of the bathroom.  Ron was sitting on the edge of his bed, swinging his long legs restlessly.  

            "Come on, Harry, I'm starving.  Let's sneak down to the kitchens and get some food from the elves."

            Harry rolled his eyes as he rummaged through his trunk for a fresh robe.  "I can't believe you're hungry after all you ate last night.  I don't think I can eat for another week at least."

            "That's what I thought last night, too.  It was great of Fred and George to have given us all that extra food.  Did you try those chocolate éclairs?" Ron smiled dreamily at the memory of said éclairs, "I was a little suspicious at first of anything they sent.  Remember how they tricked Neville with those Canary Creams last year?  And the Ton Tongue Toffees they managed to slip to that awful cousin of yours?  Ha, I'll never forget it!"

            Harry laughed hollowly.  Honestly his past summer had been one of the most miserable periods of time he'd ever spent with the Dursleys, his only living blood relatives.  The memory of the Ton Tongue Toffees had been still fresh in their minds, and they treated him worse than ever.  Harry had often found himself reminding them of his convict godfather, Sirius Black, in order to get a little relief.  

            Harry had also spent the entire summer holidays worrying about the return of Voldemort.  He'd been having nightmares since the end of the last school year.  At first they mostly consisted of the terrifying scene in the graveyard—Cedric Diggory's horrified expression as green light flashed through the air, the circle of laughing Death Eaters, the look of pain on Wormtail's face as he cut off his own hand to bring his master back to life, and the thing that pulled itself out of the bubbling cauldron.  Lately, though, Harry'd been experiencing different nightmares, images of things he'd never seen before.  The inside of some place with stony walls that dripped and resounded with insane shrieks, where dementors glided restlessly.  Harry could only guess that this must be the wizard prison of Azkaban and was afraid that it meant Sirius had been caught again.  He had secretly told Hermione and Ron about his fears, but they insisted that if Sirius were to be captured it would be all over the Daily Prophet.  

            "That's why I've renewed my subscription, isn't it Harry?" Hermione had waved the newspaper in front of his nose, "That way we can keep on top of things that are happening."  

            Harry had almost felt reassured by this…almost.  His Azkaban nightmares were growing more complex.  He dreamt that the dementors disappeared from the place completely and that an unseen force had silenced the shrieks suddenly.  In one recent, particularly disturbing dream, he was standing inside a cell.  There were four men, two who he knew…Wormtail and Lucius Malfoy…the third he didn't know, but who looked disturbingly like Sirius when he'd first escaped Azkaban, and the fourth he couldn't see clearly at all to identify him.  In slow motion, it seemed, Malfoy raised his wand and muttered _Crucio._  The prisoner fell to the floor, his body convulsing horribly, but no sound issuing from him.  Harry kept waking from this dream with sweat pouring down the back of his neck, not understanding what it meant.  Who was this man and why was Malfoy torturing him?  He hadn't told Hermione and Ron about this particular dream yet, though he was sure Hermione was having suspicions there was something he'd been hiding from them.  She kept throwing him those worried looks she'd perfected over the past four and a half years whenever it appeared he wasn't paying attention.  Harry felt guilty for not telling them, but the truth was he didn't know if the dreams were important or not.  There was no way to tell…besides, his scar wasn't hurting, which was usually a good indication of when he was seeing things having to do with Voldemort, his main concern of late.  

            Ron tugging insistently on his sleeve pulled Harry out of his musings.  "Let's move, Potter.  We want to get down there before lunch starts, don't we?"

            "Yeah, okay, keep your pants on Weasley." Harry mumbled, sticking his wand into his back pocket.  

They wandered through the common room and were getting ready to climb out through the portrait when a shrill voice stopped them.  "Harry!  Don't put your foot down!  You're going to step on Trevor!"  

Harry stopped his leg in midair looking down to see Neville Longbottom's fat toad, Trevor, sitting on the floor and croaking lazily.  "Oh, sorry, Neville." He bent and scooped up the toad, handing it to the round-faced boy who had come up behind them.

"Honestly, Neville, you should try and get a leash for that thing." Ron said.  

Neville shrugged.  "I asked Granmum to look for one for him, but she said I should be more concerned with my studies than some useless toad.  Oops!"  Trevor had managed to squeeze out of Neville's grasp and appeared to be making another bid for freedom.  Neville chased after the escapee, calling over his shoulder, "I'll see you after the holidays!  Have a good break!"

"Bye, Neville." They intoned together before finally leaving the common room.  

"I can't wait to get some food." Ron said excitedly, "I'm going to see if they'll fix me up an omelet, with some sausages and maybe a good batch of kippers…"

"Ugh, how can you stand kippers?" Harry moaned, going slightly green.

"Easy," Ron grinned, "They taste the best with a lots of ketchup."

"Thanks for that lovely mental image, Ron," Harry said turning an even more sickly shade of green, "Now I'm really ready to have a big breakfast."

They walked down the giant marble staircase, taking the hallway off to the right that led to the Hufflepuff Common Room as well as the kitchens.  Ron continued to talk nineteen to the dozen about what he was planning to have the houselves make him.  

"You know, Ron, Hermione wouldn't be too happy about the amount of work you're going to put these elves through." Harry said as he reached up to tickle the large green pear in the portrait of a big bowl of fruit that led to the kitchens.  It giggled, turning into a green doorknob.

"Oh, don't start with that again." Ron groaned, "She really hasn't given up on SPEW, has she?  Why can't I make her see that the elves _like _to work?  They're _happy_.  Only Dobby's the odd one."

Harry laughed, opening the portrait and stepping inside.  Almost instantly a small figure came flying forward and clasped him tightly about the middle.  

"Harry Potter!" it shrieked, "It is good to see you!  Dobby is so happy Harry Potter came to visit!"  

"It's good to see you too, Dobby." Harry said, gently trying to pry the ecstatic elf off his waist.

"Hey, Dobby, do you think we could have something to eat?  We missed breakfast."  No sooner had the words left Ron's mouth than four elves came running up bearing a platter of eggs, sausage and toast.  "Great, thanks!" Ron said enthusiastically to the beaming elves.

"Yeah, thanks."  Harry said grabbing a piece of toast off the platter.  Suddenly there was a loud ringing noise that echoed resoundingly throughout the kitchen.  Dobby's ears stood straight up and he looked around frantically.  

"Where is Linky gone to?" He asked anxiously.  A smaller elf with big brown eyes came running towards him and he motioned for her to follow.  "Sorry Dobby is leaving so soon, Harry Potter, but Professor Snape is calling for him!" Dobby called as he and Linky ran out the door.  

"Bye, Dobby." Harry shouted after him.

"I thought Snape was gone until after Christmas." Ron said in puzzled voice around a mouthful of eggs and sausage.

"So did I." Harry gave a little moan.  "And here I was thinking it'd be a good Christmas for once without him swooping around like the overgrown bat he is."

            Ron laughed.  "Why do you think he's back?"

            "Haven't a clue.  Why, do you want to go and _ask_ him, Ron?"

            Ron paled slightly.  "I don't have a death wish, Potter.  Though he'd probably be ecstatic to see you."

            "Right," Harry said darkly, biting into another piece of toast, "I'm sure he would.  Poor Dobby.  Could you imagine having to unpack Snape's things?"

            "Argh, no!" Ron covered his eyes with his hands, "I don't want to think about Snape's private stuff!  Bad mental images!  Harry, don't do that to me!"  

            Harry smiled, raising his hands placatingly.  "Sorry, Ron.  I won't do that again.  Well, I'm full.  Are you done y_et_, Weasley?"

            "Yeah, give me one second," Ron said hurriedly stuffing more toast and sausages into his pockets.  

Harry rolled his eyes and moved towards the door, thanking the elves, who beamed and thanked profusely in return, asking that he come again soon.  

As they neared the main hall, they heard Snape's voice booming, "And if Professor Burdock finds one item missing, you'll be answering to me!"  Harry tugged on Ron's robes, pulling him back just in time to avoid getting hit by the two rushing elves and the baggage that floated quickly behind them as they rounded the corner.  They watched the elves scuttle down the hall, taking the fork that led up a staircase to their right.  Quizzically, Harry and Ron looked at each other before inching forward to peer around the corner cautiously.  

In the main hall they could see Professor Snape and Professor Lupin, along with another wizard they didn't recognize.  Snape looked as dark and ominous as ever, and Lupin looked slightly less tired than he had in the past and as though he'd been taking full advantage of the enormous amounts of food offered at Hogwarts.  The third wizard was shorter than either of the professors, and had dark brown hair that must look almost red in the sunlight.  

Harry gaped at him.  Though he was wearing well-kept, practically new looking robes, they hung about his body like a sheet.  His skin was pale, almost paler than Snape's, as though he hadn't been in the sunlight for years and his face was thin, so thin Harry could make out the individual bones and veins.  He shuddered slightly, thinking: _that's what Sirius looked like right after he escaped from Azkaban, except he didn't have the new robes or the haircut.  _

Harry's attention was refocused on the two other men as Lupin said in his usual good-humored voice, "Do you really think house-elves have any inclination to steal, Professor Snape?  And are you really so anxious to see me leave?  I thought you would miss me terribly."  Snape and the other wizard spun around to face him, obviously unaware of his presence.  Snape growled something neither Ron nor Harry could make out, but caused Lupin to smile and answer, "It's good to see you again, as well.  Aren't you going to introduce us, Severus?"

            Harry leaned forward, listening intently as Snape tried to make an introduction but was cut off by the stranger, who pushed past him, saying, "Professor Finley Burdock.  It's a pleasure to meet you."    

            Lupin shook his hand, while Snape fumed behind them.  Lupin then turned to Snape and muttered something they couldn't hear from where they were standing, but which must have hit a sore spot because his face got _that look, the look that had taught them not to snicker about Draco Malfoy in the middle of Potions.  "Potter must have told you that."_

            Harry tensed at the mention of his name as Snape continued.  "Only he could come up with such a preposterous idea."  Ron grabbed the back Harry's robes warningly.

            "Potter?  Not Harry Potter?"  Finley Burdock asked.

            Snape looked even more furious, pulling himself up into what the Gryffindors defined as his intimidation stance.  

  "Yes, Harry Potter.  Famous Harry bloody Potter."  This time, Ron had to pull Harry back several feet to prevent him from running out into the hallway and start throwing every hex he knew.  They didn't see the sharp look Burdock threw in their direction nor did they notice Lupin's laugh and his attempt at calming Snape down.

            Harry stopped fighting to get out of Ron's grip just in time to hear Burdock say, "Please call me Finley.  I suppose I'll have to decide for myself when I meet him, won't I?"  

            "Of course." Lupin answered.  The two boys peered again around the corner just as Snape started walking in their direction, saying,  "We must be going to see Professor Dumbledore now.  As much as a pleasure as it has been to talk to you, Lupin, I'm afraid you must find another time to talk to Professor Burdock."  

            "We need to hide, quick!" Harry hissed, "I don't fancy meeting up with Snape after that conversation."  

            Ron nodded in agreement, searching frantically for a good spot.  He saw the storage closet almost immediately, opened the door and diving in, followed quickly by Harry, who closed the door just before Snape and Burdock passed by.  They sat in the dark, holding their breath, waiting for the footsteps of the two wizards to fade away.  After a couple of minutes that seemed more like a couple of years, they opened the door and glanced out into the hallway, making sure the professors weren't still there.  

            When it was apparent the coast was clear they clambered out of the closet.  

            "What do you think _that was about?" Ron asked._

            Harry shrugged.  "No idea.  The thing that I'm wondering about is who is Burdock?"

            "What?" 

            "I feel like I've see him before from somewhere."          

            "Come on, Harry," Ron laughed nervously, "You're just imagining things.  You couldn't have possibly seen him before."

            "You're probably right." Harry conceded, "I must be imagining things.  Let's go see Hermione before she goes."  As they climbed the marble staircase to Gryffindor tower, Harry couldn't shake the feeling he _had seen Burdock somewhere before. _

A/N:  I was thinking about having Alexander change the color of his hair, so he wouldn't be recognize by Harry and Ron as easily.  That's the poll for today: Yes, definitely;  No, I don't think Harry and Ron will be that quick to realize who he is; Whatever, I don't care even if he goes bald.  Second part of poll, if the answer is overwhelmingly yes, definitely, the color selection: Blonde, real brown, black (though I think there are a lot of people with black hair running around Hogwarts, aren't there?)  Well, the decision is up to you, so R/R in this case would be much appreciated! ^_^   


	15. Dinner at Hogwarts

Chapter 16:  Dinner at Hogwarts

            "It is good to see you again, Alexander," Dumbledore stood smiling at him from behind his desk, "or are you to be referred to under a different name already?"

            "We had the unfortunate luck of running into Professor Lupin when we first arrived," Snape answered, "And were forced to think of a name on the spot."

"Burdock, Finley Burdock." Alexander replied, arching an eyebrow suavely.  Dumbledore chuckled slightly, though Snape looked bemused.  

"Forget it.  Muggle movie from a long time ago." Alex muttered.  

Snape wrinkled his nose slightly, expression clearly reading, _Oh, I see…_

Dumbledore gestured for them to sit down which they complied, Snape choosing the huge armchair in front of the fire, leaning back and steepling his fingers together, the appearance of being relaxed.  But Alex could see his shoulders were tense, almost as if her were awaiting something unpleasant and his black eyes kept flicking back and forth between Alexander and Dumbledore.

Alex looked dubiously at the cushy armchair in front of the Headmaster's desk before perching on the edge of it.  Dumbledore settled behind the huge desk.  Alex tried to focus on the ancient wizard, but his attention kept being dragged away by the various items in the room.  He'd only been to the Headmaster's office once before, when he'd been a first year.  That was before Dumbledore had become Headmaster, when Armando Dippet still held the position.  He'd snuck into the Forbidden Forest, for a reason he couldn't remember now, but it was probably something ridiculous, and had been caught by Argus Filch, the Caretaker.  Even now Alexander shuddered to think what Filch would've done if Dippet had allowed him to administer the detention.  

In any case, the office had changed tremendously.  During Dippet's time it had been rather bare with only the big desk and a few rugs thrown here and there.  The only similarity were the numerous portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses that were leaning forward within the confines of their frames to peer interestedly at Alex.  Other than that, the room couldn't have been more different.  There were tables filled with an assortment of magical devices that whirred and clicked, more cushy chairs and a very squashy looking sofa, and behind Dumbledore stood an ornate cage in which sat a beautiful bird with splendid golden and red plumage.  Alex did a double take before he realized that the bird was a phoenix.  It gazed at him with soft brown eyes and let off a small trill, sending a slight shudder of pleasure up his spine.  

"Well, Mr. Burdock," Dumbledore addressed him, "I must say you look much improved."

"Thank you, sir," Alex said softly, fingering the sleeve of his new robes.

"Have you possibly considered changing the color of your hair as well?" 

Alex's eyes went wide, his hand flying up to touch the top of his head at this abrupt question.  "Why would I do that?"

"You have inherited the one thing that all Weasley's possess," Dumbledore explained patiently.

"Obtuseness?" Snape muttered.

Alex jumped up and whirled on the tall man, his fists already clenching, causing Snape to lean back in his chair with slight surprise.  However, Alex was stopped by Dumbledore's soft words.

"Professor Snape, as much as I respect your intelligence, it does not do to insult others' aptitude.  And Professor Burdock I will ask of only one favor from you while you are in the precincts of this school, and that is not to spill blood."

"If I strangle him there will be no blood." Alex gritted.

Dumbledore gave a chuckle.  "True, but you understand what I mean.  Do not threaten to kill or horribly maim my Potions Master or anyone else in my faculty.  Agreed?"

"Agreed." Alex grumbled giving Snape a dark look before slumping down into the armchair.

"Back onto the subject of your hair." Dumbledore said cheerfully, "I'm afraid you might be recognized.  Any Weasley would recognize you immediately and as we have at the moment four Weasleys attending Hogwarts the risk would be too great."

"But we met with Professor Lupin before," Alex protested, "and I believe he would surely notice the change.  I don't think I could come up with a suitable explanation as to why I dyed my hair."

"I wasn't thinking about turning it platinum blonde," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling, "But perhaps something subtle, so that Lupin nor anyone else wouldn't notice the change."

            Alex caught the implied mention of others knowing about his being here and his mind thought back to the mysterious eavesdroppers earlier.  _But surely he can't know about that.  It's not like he can read minds._  

            "Perhaps a lovely brown," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

            Alexander shrugged.  "I suppose that it should be fine."

            "Very good," Dumbledore smiled and waved his wand in Alex's direction.  

            Alex didn't feel anything happen and reached up to touch his head again.

            "It looks good." Dumbledore nodded his head approvingly.

            "Yes, quite a change for the better." Snape said softly.  

            Alex gripped the edge of his chair, reminding himself of the promise he made to the Headmaster.  _I will not kill him while inside this school…but I can't promise anything outside the boundaries of Hogwarts._  

            "Now, unless you have any other questions for me, Professor Snape will show you to your quarters." Dumbledore said, standing.  

            Alexander and Snape stood as well, but Alex leaned forward.  "I do have one question."  He waited for Dumbledore's nod before continuing, "What will happen to me?"

            "Nothing is certain for now, Alexander," Dumbledore murmured, his blue eyes showing the same sadness that seemed to ache in Alex's heart, "But we will do all in our power to protect you and help you to reestablish your life.  It is a hard road ahead, but I am confident you will be able to make the trek and hopefully come to terms with tranquility once again."

            Alex nodded, swallowing hard, and bid the Headmaster farewell before following Snape out of the room once again.

            Both men were silent as they walked down the hallways.  The school was almost oppressively quiet, but neither seemed to notice, each wrapped up in his own thoughts.  Snape suddenly stopped and turned towards Alex.  

            "Weasley…" He started.

            "Be careful what you say Snape, even the walls have ears," Alex said, pointedly looking at a portrait of a rather dour looking man with extra long mustachios.  

            "Burdock," Snape gritted, "I have a question of my own for you.  Why do you want to kill me?"

            "Why do you want to humiliate me and my family?  Why do you want to accuse people I love dearly of betrayal?" Alex shot back.  

            Snape folded his arms, pulling himself up to his full height.  "I asked you first."

            "I believe I just answered you." Alex said, staring fearlessly up at the imposing Potions Master.  

            Snape's black eyes glittered unpleasantly.  "I have lived almost my entire life not trusting anyone, Burdock.  I take reasonable doubt into consideration for everyone."  Snape stepped back a step as Alex's normally haunted eyes flashed suddenly and he seemed to grow a foot higher.

            "Reasonable doubt?" His voice was strangled, his hands clenched into the folds of his robes, "Reasonable doubt?  Do you think they gave _me_ the _consideration of reasonable doubt_ before they locked me up and threw away the key?"

            Snape seemed to dredge up some vestiges of courage.  "Shh, Burdock, even the walls have ears." He reminded him, placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder.  

Alex shook it off with contempt.  "_Don't touch me._"  

The Potions Master stared hard at the furious man, who, even so soon after his mad outburst, was quickly retreating back into his shell, his eyes returning to their normal deadpan gaze.  _There's someone in there,_ he thought to himself, _there's a human still there, even after all those years in Azkaban and I've just seen a part of him._  

Alex stood by the window in his chambers staring out over the school grounds.  The sun was going to set soon, the sky already turning a deep red.  Alex had been standing here since Snape had escorted him to the room earlier.  He hadn't bothered to tour the rooms or even to check his luggage.  He had merely stood at the window, lost in thought, the memories of his school days rushing around his head.  

There was a tap on the door, dragging him back to the present.  "Come in." 

"Burdock, it's time for dinner." Snape's voice announced with its usual sneer, "Dumbledore would appreciate it if you made an appearance so he can introduce you to some of your future students."  

Alexander turned and followed Snape down the hallway keeping his eyes carefully trained on the ground three feet in front of him.  Neither man acknowledged the Fat Friar, who huffed, "Well, I never!" before disappearing through a wall.  

When they reached the Great Hall, Alexander paused, taking in the site of the place he remembered so well.  The candles floating in the air, the bewitched ceiling that showed the now darkening sky outside—all was as he recalled.  Only, instead of the five tables, four for each house and the High Table for the faculty, there was one long table running through the middle of the room.  Dumbledore and a few of the other professors were already seated, including Lupin and McGonagall.  

Snape had thrown Alex a disdainful look before sweeping into the room and pulling out a seat next to McGonagall.  Some of the other professors looked up at his entrance, their eyes widening slightly at the sight of the hesitating Alexander in the doorway.  Alex moved forward, trying not to show the uncertainty he felt, sitting in between Snape and Lupin.  Lupin smiled at him, Snape didn't even look at him, while the some of the others stopped their conversations to stare at the newcomer.  

_He hasn't told them about me.  _

Dumbledore had smiled at Alex, before continuing the discussion he was having with a very short professor.  Alex didn't attempt to make a conversation with either Snape or Lupin, contenting himself with staring at the tablecloth.  

Harry and Ron walked down to dinner, talking about their favorite subject, Quidditch.  

"Griffin Flanders is the best Seeker the Chudley Cannons have had in years." Ron was protesting stoutly, "They'll be sure to win at least _one_ game this year."

"Honestly, Ron," Harry said shaking his head sadly at his best friend, "I don't know how you got obsessed with the Cannons in the first place.  They haven't one a game in over fifty years."

"They were the first team I'd ever seen play Quidditch." Ron declared, "And they only lost by a hundred points.  Percy took me to the match and kept telling me that they would start winning again someday…all they needed was…"

"Talent?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.

"No.  The chance to prove they can do it."  

"And you believed him?  This _is_ Percy you're talking about.

"I know, I know." Ron shrugged, "He can be a bit of a know-it-all sometimes, as well as a holier-than-thou git, but he does make some good points."

"And you've liked the Chudley Cannons since.  That explains a lot."

They entered the Great Hall, stopping to take in the rearrangement of the tables.

"Wow," Ron said, "I guess there really aren't that many people staying over Christmas."

"Their parents are all probably worried Vol-er You-Know-Who will storm Hogwarts at any moment." Harry rolled his eyes again.  In his mind, Hogwarts was safer than any place else in the world, mostly because Dumbledore was here.  Wherever he was, Harry only truly felt safe when Dumbledore was near.  

They walked in and Ron tugged on Harry's sleeve nodding towards the end of the table.  Harry glanced up to see the new professor seated in between Snape and Lupin, his gaze fixated on the golden plate in front of him.  Harry gestured towards the opposite end, where they took a seat.  The few other students left in the school started wandering in.  Fred and George, the Weasley twins, sat across from Ron and Harry and Ginny Weasley sat next to them, her face blushing slightly when Harry said hi to her.

"Ugh," Ron whispered to Harry as Draco Malfoy walked in with Crabbe and Goyle, "didn't Daddy want him home for Junior Death Eater training?"  

Harry shrugged, watching the blonde boy stride pompously to the table.  Malfoy smirked in his direction before taking a seat closer to the professors with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him.  Like Ron, Harry couldn't believe Malfoy hadn't gone home for Christmas.  He had been sure that Lucius Malfoy would have had some plan for his son having to do with the Dark Lord.  

The rest of the students, raising the numbers to exactly eleven total remaining in the school, joined them.  Two first year Hufflepuffs looked nervously at the scowling Crabbe and Goyle as they sat across from them and a single third year Ravenclaw girl sat next to Ginny, striking up a conversation with her rather quickly.  

Soon Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, his mere presence causing silence to fall on teachers and students alike.  "As you all can see, there were not many who wished to remain with us for the holidays.  Since it would seem most absurd for you to sit at your respective house tables I have decided that we should all sit together like one, big happy family."

Here, Draco snickered behind his hand and Snape scowled slightly at Lupin and Burdock.  Harry cast them both angry looks and George whispered something to Fred, forcing them to have to smother laughter.

Dumbledore didn't seem to notice any of the goings on and continued speaking unperturbed.  "In any case, before we begin our delicious meal, I have an announcement to make.  It is my great sadness to inform you our esteemed colleague, Professor Lupin, has been called away to Romania for the rest of the term."

"What?" Ron asked, shocked.

"Yes, quite so, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, nodding his head.  No one noticed the quick look Burdock gave Ron before returning his gaze to the plate in front of him.  The Headmaster continued.  "Yes, I am afraid he will not be returning to us until next year.  However," his blue eyes started twinkling, "I have managed to find a temporary replacement for our dear Professor Lupin.  Professor Finley Burdock will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts until Professor Lupin's return."

Burdock seemed to jerk out of his trance when Lupin poked his arm.  He looked up and down the table, nodding to everyone, but not returning any smiles that were offered.  Harry felt a shudder pass through him as the dark eyes glanced over him.  Burdock's gaze paused on the four Weasleys, but didn't remain long as he turned his gaze once again to the tablecloth.  

Some of the other professors looked at each other with slightly worried expressions on their faces, McGonagall pursed her lips slightly, and only Snape and Lupin didn't seem surprised by Burdock's behavior.  Lupin leaned over to Burdock and said something in a low voice, causing the thin man to stiffen visibly, his pale face darkening dangerously as he continued to look at the table.  

"One more announcement," Dumbledore said in his ever-cheery voice, "For Christmas we shall indeed have the usual Christmas Feast, but we shall also play a game called Secret Santa.  Each of you shall pick a name out of a hat, and whoever that person is, you will get him or her a present.  Of course you shall tell no one who it is you have until Christmas day, at which time all will be revealed.  All clear?  Very well, now time to eat!"

At this the plates and platters in front of them filled with an assortment of delicious food.  Harry couldn't help but watch Professor Burdock as the man ate his meal slowly, only taking the food offered to him.  

Ron, his mouth stuffed with mashed potatoes, followed Harry's gaze.  "What do you think of him?" He said nudging Harry in the side.  

"I'm not sure…something still seems oddly familiar about him," Harry replied in a low voice, "for some reason he reminds me of Snuffles."  Snuffles was the alias for Sirius Black that Ron, Harry, and Hermione used when in the presence of others.  

Ron stared at Burdock.  "Yeah, I can see what you mean.  Hey, wasn't his hair reddish before?" 

Harry shrugged, pouring himself a goblet of pumpkin juice.  "Must have been just the way it looked in the light.  Maybe we should try and talk to him some before school starts."

"Talk to who?" Fred butted in.

"Crabbe," Ron said, "I want to see if he needs a date to Hogsmeade next week."  

Fred and George roared with laughter while Harry smiled gratefully at his best friend.  

            Alexander focused on his food, talking to neither Snape nor Lupin.  True, he wanted to pull Lupin out of the room and interrogate him on what he knew about him.  Right after Dumbledore had announced him as the replacement Professor, Lupin had leaned over and said in voice so no one else could hear, "It seems manners must be difficult to remember after being in Azkaban."  Alex hadn't allowed himself to react, but determined that he would get this man to tell him exactly when he knew about Alexander.  Their whole plan would be blown if this shabby professor knew more than he needed to know.  For the first time in years, Alexander felt the cold prick of fear as he thought about what would happen if anyone else found out he was here.  

            They finished the main course and Alex held his very full stomach gingerly as the desserts materialized in front of him.  "No more…" he moaned soflty.  

            Snape glanced over at him, the usual sneer fully in place as he took in the pained look on Alexander's face.  "What's the matter, Burdock?" He taunted quietly, "Bitten off more than you can chew?"

            "Bugger off, Snape," Alex muttered.  

            Snape grinned, his black eyes glittering evilly as he spooned a mound of chocolate pudding onto his own plate.  "Mmm," he said through a huge mouthful, "This is good pudding, best I've tasted in years."  

            Alex blanched slightly, holding his stomach tighter.  Some of the others looked at Snape like he'd gone mad, but the Potions professor was too intent on the object of his torture.  

            "How about some nice _pie_ to go with that?  I prefer apple myself, but cherry," Snape continued, his narrowing eyes showing how much he was enjoying himself, "Cherry always goes very well with _mounds of whipped cream,_" he smirked splattering a huge dollop onto the pie with a flourish, "and of course, what would pie be without ice cream?"

            Alexander turned even paler, his eyes bulging as Snape stuffed a forkful of pie, whipped cream, and ice cream into his mouth, chewing with obvious contentment.  

            "Mmmf, nothing like it, eh?"  Snape's grin nearly reached his ears as Alex suddenly jumped up from the table and ran from the Great Hall, a hand clamped firmly over his mouth.  Snape raised is eyebrows innocently at Lupin who frowned slightly back at him.  

            "Why did you do that?" He asked.  

            Snape shrugged.  "I don't believe I need to explain myself to you, Lupin." He replied, wiping his mouth delicately with a napkin.  

            Lupin snorted.  "Right." He stood and walked away from the table, following the path taken by Alexander.  

            Snape slouched in his seat looking up at the Headmaster.  Dumbledore frowned slightly at him, the usual twinkle in his light blue eyes gone.  Snape recoiled slightly and stood.  "Fine…" he muttered, more to himself than to his disapproving employer.  Without another word he walked from the Great Hall in the same direction Alexander and Lupin had taken.  

A/N:  **So how much does Lupin know? **dramatic music**  Will Snape employ more evil dinner tricks on our unsuspecting convict?  And who will get who in the Secret Santa pick?  **dramatic music again**  Find out next time on--- **

Wait a minute!  Hold everything!  How did a narrator get into this?  I specifically ordered that there be no unattached voices floating around in my fic unless they were critical to the plot.  Now, get out of here!

****grumble grumble** Fine, fine, I know when I'm not wanted.**

Whew…now that _he's _gone, tell me what you think?  Okay, I know not much happened in this chapter, and I _know_ some of you wanted to have my hero keep his normal hair color.  But it's only temporary, people!  The Weasley red will return at an undetermined time in the future.  For now, he's a brunette.  ^_^  I'll try and get more up soon, perhaps by Wednesday.  Sound good?  Okay, just be patient.  ^_^


	16. When the Dark Mark Turns Black

Chapter 17:  When the Dark Mark Turns Black

Alexander knelt behind a pillar, his head nearly touching the floor.  The past few minutes had been agony as his body brought up his former dinner.  Now he held on to the cool stone for support, cursing Snape with every ounce of strength he had left.  

"Are you all right, Finley?"  Lupin's voice called from behind him.  

Alexander looked at him over his shoulder, slightly surprised he hadn't heard the other wizard walk up behind him.  "Yes…I think…" Just then, his stomach gave a small growl and he leaned forward again, his entire body shaking violently.  

Lupin placed a hand on his shoulder.  "Perhaps we should get you to the infirmary.  Madam Pomfrey has something that could help you out."

"I don't think she would have anything that I need right now." Alex gritted, unable to shake off Lupin's hand.  

The shabbily dressed wizard crouched beside Alexander.  "Trust me, Finley, you need to get a potion to take care of this."

"I'm sure there's no potion in the world that can help our dear Burdock." Snape's cold voice caused them both to look up at him.  "His problems far exceed anything we can cure with a simple concoction."  Snape's face twisted into a self-satisfied smirk as he looked down at Alexander and the floor in front of him.  "My, my, what a mess.  Filch isn't going to be too happy cleaning this up, now is he?"

"Sod of, Snape." Alexander grunted.  

Snape's leer deepened as he leaned forward.  "Quite an impression you've made on your new students, wouldn't you say?"

"Stop it, Severus." Lupin frowned up at him. "You know very well you provoked this.  You can at least apologize."

"Apologize?" Snape gave a humorless laugh, his cold eyes never once leaving Alex, "To him?  Lupin, can I help it if the man can't hold food in his stomach for more than five minutes?"

Alex glared up at the Potions Master.  "You insufferable git…"

"Tch, tch," Snape folded his arms, "I wouldn't be so quick to condescend, Burdock."  

Lupin stood up, helping Alexander get slowly to his feet.  "Come, we'll get you back to your rooms."

"We?" Snape asked with an eyebrow arched delicately.

"Yes, Severus.  We." Lupin said his eyes hooded and brooking no room for argument. "It would only be fair of you after putting Alexander through this ordeal."

Alex jerked away from his grip, staring at him with wide eyes, and unknowingly backing into Snape.  "What…?  How did you…?"  He asked incredulously, ignoring Snape's slight hiss of pain as he stepped on his foot. 

Lupin merely smiled.  "Professor Dumbledore told me everything before you came."  

"Now why would he do that?" Snape asked, and Alex thought he could detect a smidgen of bewilderment in his voice.  

"There's no one here I would tell," Lupin explained with a small smile, "Besides, I'll be in Romania by the end of the week."

"Exactly!" Snape growled, "You could let something slip while in Romania with all your werewolf friends (1)."

This time it was Lupin's turn to tut-tut Snape.  "I am surprised you have so little faith in me, Severus.  I would have thought…"

"You thought wrong, Lupin." Snape's voice had dropped to a sub-zero temperature, and Alex shivered slightly, reminded of the coldness the dementors always caused.  "You would be the last person I would trust, and it is only because of the good graces I hold with Dumbledore and the fact we are on the same side that I even tolerate your presence."

Lupin seemed unfazed by this.  Instead he looked at Alexander, smiling sadly.  "Dumbledore didn't tell me everything, just a brief explanation of why you are here and what your name is.  He didn't tell me you had been in Azkaban though.  But when I saw you the first time, you reminded me powerfully of my friend Sirius Black, when he first escaped from prison."

"Sirius Black?" Alex asked incredulously, "He's your friend?  He was in the cell next to me…how did he do after escaping?"

"I'll tell you the story as we walk to your rooms," Lupin said, gently leading Alex by the arm, who didn't shake him off this time, leaving a frowning Snape standing in the middle of the hallway.

Severus Snape watched their retreating backs until they disappeared from view before whirling around and sweeping down the stairs to the dungeons.  He practically ran into his office, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it.

"Get a hold of yourself, man." He said aloud, his eyes closed.  The truth was the past week had been exhausting.  

It had all started when the Dark Mark had burned on his arm for the first time since the Triwizard Tournament—owling, Voldemort style—and he had gone to the Death Eater meeting in the old Riddle mansion.  In truth, Severus wondered why in hell Voldemort chose to remain at the mansion, especially since the Potter boy had survived to give away where they were.  Perhaps the Dark Lord felt confident no one would believe the boy's story and therefore wouldn't bother inspecting the Riddle Manor.  Which was true.  There were only a small handful of people that believed Potter's tale, the most important of whom was Dumbledore.  Everyone else assumed Potter was insane and Dumbledore was a doddering old fool.  

_Fools…if only they knew.  But they don't.  They're nice and safe, protected by the ignorance they've built up for the past fourteen years.  If only the day would come where they would have the wool pulled off their eyes._

But thus far the day wasn't going to be soon in coming.  Voldemort's plan was one of guerrilla tactics.  Small attack here, quick strike there.  Nothing that could really catch people's attention.  The biggest hit they'd had since the Tournament was the one on Azkaban.  

He had gone to that meeting, where the usual group waited in their usual circle.  Except for the few gaps in the circle everything seemed almost like the 'good old days'.  Avery made a crack about Snape being late and Severus retorted in his usual sarcastic form.  Voldemort had silenced them once everyone had arrived and called Severus forward.  After a casual Cruciatus curse to remind Snape who was boss, the Dark Lord had sent him out with a task force of five other Death Eaters to "handle the situation" that was Azkaban.  They were given explicit orders to kill all wizard guards as well as those who were certifiably insane.  Any former supporters who were still in full control of their mental capabilities were to be regrouped and sent straight back to Voldemort.  Apparently Lord Voldemort had already spoken to the dementors, because they left the island right after the troupe of Death Eaters arrived.  Snape hadn't bothered wondering where they'd gone as his _colleagues_ got to work on the Azkaban.

Even now he shuddered when he thought about some of the things Malfoy and the others did to those who were insane.  _They're never happy with a clean kill.  It's always the messier the better for them._  He and Pettigrew had gone about talking to those who hadn't become crazy, gaining many new supporters who were handed a portkey and sent instantly to Voldemort's side, who would seal their oath to him by burning the Dark Mark into their arms.  

Snape held up his own arm, allowing the sleeve to fall down its length, staring in repulsion at the skull and snake that still showed slightly black there.  His constant reminder of what he was, what he had become.  Most days he wished he could climb underneath a rock and join the rest of the slimy, dark creatures that squirmed and crawled in the bowels of the earth.  

With a small snort he dropped his arm and started to pace around the cramped confines of his office, hands clasped behind his back.  He was still trying to decide what had made Malfoy give in so easily to his taking Alex away without killing him.  

_Perhaps he knew Weasley wasn't really insane and believes I was going to persuade him to join the Dark Side._  It was entirely possible…but not logical.  Malfoy wasn't the one to think ahead like that.  _Then why hasn't he told Voldemort about what I did?_  The answer came pretty easily to _that_ question.  Though he kept it better hidden than Peter Pettigrew, Lucius Malfoy was a coward at heart.  He would be afraid of what the Dark Lord would do to punish him for allowing a convict to get away with a known spy.  

Yes, Voldemort was well aware that Snape was a spy.  But, after the first five Cruciatus curses, the Dark Lord had left him lying prone on the floor, still breathing and twitching sporadically from the after-effects of the curse, and merely stated Snape was a better asset alive than dead.  Even now Snape couldn't understand what he meant by it, but he decided to not try and find out and just to let things go as they were instead.  

And then there was Weasley—Alexander.  Severus didn't know exactly how _that_ happened.  He was going about his business, trying to stay alive and all that, that's all.  Then that _man_ had to be there.  Severus paused in front of the fire the house elves had lit in the little fireplace, staring at the dancing flames as if they held the answers he needed.  Why _had_ he felt if necessary to save that man?  He had appeared insane, just as insane as the others, and he knew Malfoy was getting ready to kill him.  

It was just when the prisoner had looked at him with those dark, lifeless eyes, he had seen, for the briefest of seconds, a tiny spark of _something_.  It could have been anything: the way the torch light flickered across his face or the shine off of Pettigrew's silver hand.  But instinctively Severus knew it wasn't either of those things.  It was his first sign that this man wasn't like the others.  And then Malfoy had thrown the Cruciatus and the convict had fallen to the floor, writhing in pain but no sound coming from him.  Even those who were crazy had made some sound of protest against the waves of excruciating pain, but not this one.  When Malfoy had lifted the curse and the man had opened his eyes Severus saw defiance for a fleeting moment burning bright in them before it died out.  He should have known right then that the man was a Gryffindor, but something had blinded him, moved him to get Alexander away from Malfoy's clutches.  It wasn't pity—dear lord, no—he didn't think what he felt had a name.  Perhaps it was a form of compassion and…what, love?  _Now you've severely snapped._  

Snape snorted again.  He had never felt love for another human being.  His feelings for Dumbledore consisted largely of respect and friendship, or what he imagined friendship to be.  Even during his school days Snape never had a true friend.  He'd been adopted into the Slytherin circle for his knowledge of Potions and the Dark Arts.  He had always been a pawn, his entire life.  _Well, now is _not_ the time to get bitter about it, Snape._  Right.  He had to focus.

But his mind drifted once again to Alexander.  He couldn't help it.  The man was an enigma.  As were his feelings for him.  Severus couldn't believe that he actually had thought he'd been moved by love for the man.  It'd been the first time he'd ever seen him since school.  He didn't know him and honestly he didn't _want_ to know him.  

_Are you sure about that, Snape?_  Severus frowned, mentally waving that thought away.  Of course he was sure.  The man had already tried to take his life twice and was waiting for another chance.  It was only Dumbledore that was holding him back.  Severus swore to himself he wouldn't set a foot outside the school alone with Alexander, ever.  

_But think about what he's been through, Snape.  Hell and back, worse than you've ever known.  Watching his own wife's murder._  Snape positively scowled.  Alexander's wife, Jakura.  Severus had known her during their school days, and something about Alexander's description of her didn't fit.  But something else was bothering him about this Jakura.  There had always been "honorary" members of the Death Eater circle.  They were Voldemort's real spies in the Ministry.  Their names were never revealed, even to the Dark Lord's innermost circle, and they attended meetings fully robed and masked, their identities mysteries until the end.  It only seemed a fitting theory that this _Jakura_ was one of those spies.  

            _Of course, you may be wrong._  Yes, he may be wrong, and for what was left of Alexander's sanity, he hoped he was wrong.

            It would've been a classic move for Voldemort to have something set up like this, incarcerating innocent witches and wizards for his own ends.  Severus wouldn't expect anything less from the Dark Lord to do something like that.  

            Snape was pulled out of his reverie by a sudden burning on his arm.  Without looking at it he knew the skull would be glowing brightly black against his skin.  _Speak of the Devil…_

(1) A reference to an excellent work of fanfiction about Remus Lupin by the Wolfie Twins, "Call of the Wild".  I suggest you read it; it does such a great job of looking at Remus' life before PoA.

A/N:  Aha!  Wednesday!  See, I told you I would do it!  **happy dance**  Maybe I can get Ch. 18 up today as well…but I'm not going to promise anything, though I will have the next two chapters up by tomorrow night, most definitely.  I thought we needed a bit of a peek into the mysterious mind of Severus Snape (everyone's favorite Potions Master, woo hoo!)  For those of you who don't like it, I apologize if the _very mild_ slash (or yaoi) offended you any.  I am considering to put some more of it in this…just be forewarned.  It shouldn't be anything too serious…I don't know if I see a relationship between Alex and Snape, as it seems to me that Alex would be more content gouging out Snape's eyes.  But you know what they say about strong hate and what it covers up…hehe…  Anyway, that whole thing's up in the air right now.  Lets just see how things go, shall we?  (I swear, this story is writing itself…I wish it would give me some control over it…I'm just the "middle-man" sittin' at the keyboard…*grumble*)  Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter.    


	17. Love Denied

Chapter 18:  Love Denied

            I'm standing at the window in my rooms.  Again.  It seems like the best place to think.  While my mind wanders, the thoughts are emphasized by sight of the quarter moon rising over the Forbidden Forest, its reflection glittering off the surface of the lake.  It's untouchable beauty makes me want to cry, laugh, scream, hit something…_someone.  _A vision of Snape shimmers into focus at this.  If I hadn't made that promise to Dumbledore, I would have clocked the pompous git at dinner.  I have had such difficulty holding down food lately and he just had to go and make things worse.    

            I hold my Puffskein to my chest, petting it gently as it makes the contented whirring noise.  At least Lupin had enough decency to try and offer me aid.  He told me about Sirius Black's rough time after escaping from Azkaban, how he'd tried to kill Pettigrew (the little rat), how Lupin and the rest of the wizarding world had suspected him of trying to kill Harry.  How Snape had never liked any of them since their schooldays.  Here, he didn't really explain why, and I could tell he was withholding a critical part of the story.  But I figure I can find out from Snape, if I resist the urge to throw the worst body-binding curse ever on him.  

            _You didn't promise Dumbledore you wouldn't curse Snape…just don't kill or horribly maim him…_  I push the thought away.  It was wrong to put Dumbledore's trust to the test.  Trust from a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore was something to be respected and not taken for granted.  I sigh, thinking I must restrain my urges.  

            My thoughts return to Lupin's recount of Black's flight, his escape on Buckbeak the hippogriff, and his vigilant protection of his godson, Harry.  He was currently going about the countryside in his Animagus form, collecting Dumbledore's old supporters, alerting them to Voldemort's return.  

            "He should be back in about a week or two." Lupin said, smiling slightly, "I think it would be interesting for you to meet him."

            "Oh, so we can rehash the best torture techniques the dementors used?" I snapped before I could stop myself.

            Lupin's smile faded, but I didn't apologize.  I _couldn't_ apologize and he didn't seem to expect one.  "You know I didn't mean that."

            I looked away.  He touched my shoulder and I jerked away from the gentle contact.  It didn't seem right to me.

            "I can't profess to understand what you and Sirius endured in Azkaban, Alexander.  But I do know what it is to suffer, either physically or emotionally…"

            I stared at him hard, making his sentence trail off.  "Everyone has _suffered_ in their lifetime." 

            He left soon after that saying he was going to leave for Romania by the end of the week and should I wish to talk with him he would be around.  I didn't reply.  

            "It's so difficult to talk to _sympathetic_ people," I mutter into the soft fur of the Puffskein.  It is so much easier to be with someone who isn't so _compassionate._  Once again my thoughts return to Snape.  He has been one of the few people I've met since leaving Azkaban that hasn't given me a sad look as if I'm something to be pitied…and I have to admit…I'm grateful to him for that.  

            "Dammit!" I curse aloud, "God damn him!"  I don't want to be grateful to anyone, because gratitude leaves you in debt to that person.  I put the Puffskein on the bed and practically run from the room.  

I don't know where I'm going, nor do I care.  It is like when I ran away from Snape's kitchen that first time.  I just need to run to escape my thoughts.  Perhaps I _do_ need to speak to someone.  As I rush down the hallways and corridors something moves in the corner of my eye and I stop.  

Snape is walking at a swift pace in the direction of Dumbledore's office, his black robes billowing around him.  Not realizing what I'm doing, I follow as silently as I can at a safe distance.  He stops in front of the stone gargoyle marking the entrance to the Headmaster's office and mutters, "Fizzing Whizzbees."  

I wait until the gargoyle has closed behind Snape before walking up to it myself and repeating the password.  I ride the spiraling staircase to the top of the tower and stop behind the closed oak door.  Inside I can hear Snape saying something in a low voice to Dumbledore.

"Are you certain you must go, Severus?" Dumbledore's voice sounds concerned.  

"It is absolutely necessary.  The Master has called his servants to him." Snape's voice is bitter and slightly strained.  

"I wish you didn't have to."

"Don't you think I wish the same?" Snape mutters.  "But I think of it more as…a rightful punishment for my blindness all those years ago."

"Severus, people are not punished for blindness or ignorance." Dumbledore says, and I can hear sharpness in his voice.

"Whatever the case may be," Snape continues, "I have much to explain to the Dark Lord.  He will be very displeased by the way I acted in Azkaban."  Is it my imagination, or do I hear fear?  I lean closer to the door, intent on catching every nuance of the conversation.  "I acted without thinking.  I should have known better than interfere."

"Yet you did, and you saved a man's life." Dumbledore's voice is gentler now.

There is a pause and Snape says, "One life compared to thousands is nothing.  If I am killed for this, think of how many more will die because I am not able to inform you of what Voldemort is planning next.  Such a waste."

My hands clench into fists at this.  A waste?  My life is a waste?  How dare he!  But then I think on what he meant and it hits me that he really is worried about all of those who could fall under Voldemort.  

"I must be going now; Lord Voldemort doesn't appreciate it when we are late."  There's a rustling of robes and I realize that should he come out he would find me here, listening in on what is mean to be a very private conversation.  I search around frantically for somewhere to conceal myself, but not opportunity presents itself.

"Why don't you use Floo from here to the Three Broomsticks, and you can apparate from Hogsmeade?" Dumbledore's voice stops my frenzied search.  

"Very well, Professor."  

I slump against the wall, breathing a sigh of relief.  I hear the flames in the room roar up, indicating the powder had been thrown on them.

"Albus?"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Before I go…_should_ something happen to me…promise you'll let nothing harm him." 

"Him?  Harry?"  Dumbledore's voice sounds politely confused.

"I already know you'll let nothing happen to Potter," Snape's voice is sharp, but it softens immediately, "I meant…Alexander."

"I would protect him with my life if I needed to."  Dumbledore proclaims.  

Before Snape's voice calls, "Three Broomsticks," I hear him murmur, "As would I."

I lean against the wall, my mind reeling.  Snape, protect me?  Through my shock I barely register Dumbledore calling out, "You can come in now, Professor Burdock."

I open the door slowly, peering into the room.  Dumbledore's standing in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back, watching the vividly purple flames slowly return to their original color.  He looks around at me and I nearly run from the room at the sadness I see in his bright blue eyes.

"You heard?" He asks.

"Everything." I say, steeling myself against the open sorrow in his face.  "Is it a Death Eater meeting?"

"Yes." Dumbledore is silent for a moment. "I am afraid that he might not return from this one.  Of course, I feel this way every time he leaves."

"The dangers of being a spy." I murmur, not knowing what Dumbledore expects to hear from me.  But it seems to be the right thing and he nods, returning his gaze to the fire.  There is a complete silence, the crackling of the flames the only sound in the room.  

I begin to drift in the silence, once again getting lost in thought, so that Dumbledore's next comment startles me.  
            "The dangers of loving others are just as great."

"Sir?"  

Dumbledore looks at me.  "You are well aware of the pains that come from losing someone cherished."

"I am." I murmur, looking away from his piercing gaze. "I don't intend on letting anyone become as close to me…anyone I ever loved has only suffered because of my love."  I shut my mouth, incredulous that I had actually spoken those words aloud.

"Loving might be a mistake." Dumbledore says softly, "But wouldn't you say it's a mistake worth making?"(1)

I lower my head.  "I seriously doubt it."

Dumbledore sighs, looking back at the dancing flames.  "I was afraid you might say that."

(1) Idea from the Lee Ann Womack song, "I Hope You Dance"

A/N: So sappy, I know.  But I felt like we hadn't been in Alexander's mind for a while.  This chapter made _me_ feel depressed, and I was the one writing it.  How sad is that?  Oh well, chapter 19 will be up soon, and more things will happen.  

**Goody goody.**  

What is he doing back here?

Er…don't pay attention to the man behind the screen… 

I have no intention of doing that; now get out of here before I sic Heero Yuy on you. (GW fans will understand this. ^_^)

_Heero:  Omae o korosu._

**Okay, okay, I'm leaving.__**

_Heero: Baka._        


	18. The Interrogation

Chapter 19:  The Interrogation

            Severus pulled his robes tightly around him, grateful for the mask hiding his expression.  He stood in his usual spot in the circle, watching a young woman in the center of it screaming.  Voldemort stood over her, his wand held high, something resembling a smile twisting his reptilian features.  Abruptly he lowered his wand and the woman collapsed to the floor, breathing hard.  

            "Please…please…" she said in a shaky voice, "don't kill me…I have a child…a family…"

            "Ah, yes," Voldemort's smile widened slightly, "You do, don't you?  Very well then, _I_ won't kill you."  He made a small gestured and two of the Death Eaters walked forward.  Horrible realization dawned on the woman's face and she gave a small cry as the shrouded figures grabbed both of her arms and started dragging her away.

            "As for your family," Voldemort called above the woman's pleas, "I already paid them a small visit earlier this evening."  

            The woman shrieked louder and snickers rose from the circle.  When the woman's screams had dies away, Voldemort made a motion like dusting his hands and sighed.

            "Well, that was amusing, was it not?" He said looking around at his followers.  Most laughed appreciatively.  Severus was one of the few that did not.  Voldemort's expression grew more serious, though his strange red eyes seemed to glow brighter.  "Now down to business.  Snape!  Step forward."

            Severus complied slowly, willing himself to remain calm and resist the shaking that threatened his limbs.  He pulled his mask off, kneeling in front of the Dark Lord.  

            "Rise, Snape."  Voldemort commanded in an imperious voice.  Once Severus had, Voldemort started pacing around him in a slow circle.  "I have heard interesting news from Lucius, my dear Severus."  

            "What news would that be, Master?" Severus asked, carefully keeping emotion from his voice.  

            Voldemort was behind him now and he leaned in, his cold voice close to Severus' ear.  "It seems things did not go exactly according to plan in Azkaban."

            "How so, Master?" 

            "There was one prisoner who remained alive and was not drafted to my ranks.  It has come to my attention that he left with you."  The Dark Lord said softly.  "Now, unless I am much mistaken, I gave specific orders that those who were insane were to be killed and those who were not were to be sent directly to me."

            "And if I were to say he was killed?"  

            "Then I would say you've lost your touch at lying, Snape." Voldemort laughed harshly and Severus felt a small shiver run up his spine.  

            Thinking quickly, Severus managed to fabricate something that might seem believable.  "He…intrigued me, Master."

            "Intrigued you, Snape?  A filthy, underfed, cracked criminal?  I must say I had higher expectations of your tastes.  But no mind, go on.  Explain to me why you decided to ignore my orders.  And be careful, Snape, I _can_ tell when you're lying." 

            Snape's mind whirled as he thought of something to tell him, before he settled for something fairly close to the truth.  "It is true, he intrigued me.  When I found Lucius and Peter in his cell, Lucius was in the process of _interrogating_ him.  Lucius believed he was insane, but I could see it was a charade.  However, I believed he was close to insanity…and I chose the perfect opportunity.  I believe, if given the right amount of time with this man,  he could be a valuable asset."

            "How can he be a better asset to you than to me?" Voldemort's voice was dangerously soft causing Severus to swallow hard.

            "He will become your asset by being loyal to me.  I will teach him everything I know…he will become a spy in Hogwarts.  That way, should anything happen to me, he will still be a source of information for you."

            "Really.  How interesting." Voldemort walked around so he was face to face with Severus again.  "And tell me, Severus, how do you propose to make this man loyal to _you_?" 

            Severus paused.  He hadn't really thought about _that_.  "The promise of pleasure should he be devoted to me."  

            Voldemort laughed again.  "I must wonder if you are gaining a new follower for me or a plaything for yourself."

            "Both." Severus said defiantly.  

            "Very well, Severus.  I will be most disappointed in you should you fail in this.  You understand that, don't you?" Voldemort said in a paternal tone, though Severus could hear the very clear threat behind it.

            "Yes, Master." 

            "However, I am afraid it is necessary I do punish you for disobeying my orders in the first place."  Voldemort had walked once again so he was standing behind Severus.  "Except no Cruciatus this time."

            Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise and was barely able to stop himself from flinching when he felt the tip of Voldemort's wand placed at the nape of his neck.

            "This is a little thing I've been experimenting with lately.  I do hope you let me know its' effectiveness after.  _Perculsus Dolens._"

            Pain zipped down Severus' spine, transfixing him to the spot.  It was like a body-bind and Cruciatus combined.  He wasn't able to scream or collapse like when Cruciatus has been thrown.  It was little bits of electric shock being sent to every neuron of his body, striking every one until he started shaking uncontrollably.  He had bitten down hard when the curse was first started and could distantly taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.  _Merlin save me…_was his last thought before slipping into a welcoming darkness.  

            Someone slapping him roughly pulled him from unconsciousness and he opened his eyes blearily.  Lucius Malfoy was bent over him, his mask pulled off and an evil leer on his face.  "Good morning, sunshine." He quipped.  

            Severus moaned softly, pulling himself upright.  The taste of blood was stronger now, and he could feel it trickling down his chin.  He was still in the center of the circle and he could see Voldemort standing a little apart, an amused expression on his face.  

            "So, Severus," Voldemort hissed as the wizard dragged himself onto his feet, "Tell me, how did that particular curse make you feel?  And remember to be honest, this is for _posterity_'s sake."

            Severus groaned, swaying slightly.  The circle of Death Eaters laughed at this.  Voldemort stepped forward, the sickening smile still on his face.  

            "I'm not quite finished yet.  I have yet to show you my coup d'etat." He held out a wicked looking dagger and beckoned for Severus to approach, which he did, his body still tingling painfully from the curse.  "Now put out your leg, Severus.  This will sting only for a little bit."  

            Severus did so and gave a small gasp as Voldemort quickly swiped the dagger across his left thigh just hard enough to draw blood.  Severus looked at the Dark Lord curiously, and received his answer as the snake-like man smiled at him.  

            "Just a little bit of paralysis potion on the tip of the dagger." Voldemort explained calmly, "It should make getting home interesting, as you cannot Apparate directly to your chambers in that blasted school.  Now, leave.  You are dismissed to return to your new _toy._"  

            Without looking at anyone or saying anything else, Severus Apparated with a small pop.

            He somehow managed to make it to the lake before his leg gave out on him.  He sat there, the after effects of the curse causing him to tremble non stop, watching the water ripple slightly, then looking up at the sky that was quickly clouding up, the stars being blotted out by ominous storm clouds.  _The only way this can get worse is if it starts to…_  The first raindrop plopped in the middle of his forehead.  Soon he was drenched to the skin by a freezing December rainstorm.  

            _Let's go, Severus.  Get yourself to the castle before you die of hypothermia._  Normally Severus wouldn't be worried about the cold as the dungeons were almost always near freezing, even during the summer.  But he wasn't sure how the curse effected his body's resistance to cold.  He searched the ground nearby and found a long stick that would support his weight sufficiently.  Using that, he hauled his aching body in the direction of the castle.  

            The trip became continuously more difficult as the shaking of his body increased until he almost couldn't hold on to the stick anymore.  He felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his head.  He opened his eyes again and continued to drag himself forward.  He wasn't sure how long he'd been moving, it felt like years, before his other leg gave out.  _I didn't think the poison would effect me so quickly…_ Snape thought distantly as the lower half of his body grew numb.  He tilted forward, unbalanced, a black night once again reaching out to him.  He welcomed it, releasing the stick and falling…  Before he lost total consciousness, some little voice at the back of his mind told him he had never hit the ground.

A/N:  Okay, the thing about prosperity's sake I took from the Princess Bride.  You all know the scene where the six-fingered man is torturing Wesley.  Yeah, well that's where I got the idea.  It just seems like something Moldie-Voldie would say. 


	19. The Bond is Broken

Chapter 20:  The Bond is Broken

            Blissful swirling darkness surrounded him.  So peaceful, so quiet.  Nothing to bother him here…no worries, no reminders of what he was, no thoughts about Voldemort, Death Eaters, or burning tattoos.  It was just he, nothing else, floating in a deep, unlimited night.  

            Someone calling…_go away_…_stop calling my name…what are you…?  No…don't touch me…I just want…sleep…no, don't make me move…now what are you doing?  Don't make me…_

            "Open your eyes, you stubborn…"

            _No, don't want to…_

            "Snape, open your eyes now!"

            A rough hand behind his head, another one forcing his mouth open…a burning fluid pouring down his throat…

            With a gasp Severus' eyes flew open and he sat up choking.  The rough hand returned, forcing him to lie back on the bed.  

            _Wait, bed?_  Severus looked up at his assailant, ready to give him or her a piece of his mind.  He saw Alexander leaning over him, the dark eyes in the skeletally thin face unreadable.  

            "Now, will you just lie still before you do any more damage?"  Alexander growled.  

            "I didn't know you cared so much about me." Snape sneered.  

            Alex rolled his eyes.  "I don't, Snape.  I meant any more damage to me.  You like to flail around a lot in your sleep."  He moved a bit so light hit his face a bit more directly and Severus could see a fresh bruise blossoming across his cheekbone.  _Oops…_

            Alexander stood up straight and turned away.  Severus took the moment to get his bearings.  He was lying in a bed, _his_ bed to be exact.  The room they were in was his, and there was actually a bright fire crackling in the usually cold hearth.  

            "Why…?" Snape started to ask uncertainly.

            "I was going to take you to the infirmary, but I heard there were two students in there." Alex interrupted,  "I made a guess that you wouldn't want to make _that sort_ of _impression_ on them, so I found out where your rooms were and here we are.  Madam Pomfrey has already been here and made her diagnosis."

            "What's my diagnosis?" Severus asked weakly.

            "That you're a stubborn, hard-headed prat, but she needn't have bothered.  I already knew that." Alexander said before turning around holding a goblet full of steaming liquid, and Snape swore he could see the merest ghost of a smile playing on his lips.  

            "Does this amuse you?" Severus snapped in a bout of self-pity.  The smile disappeared abruptly.

            "No.  Drink this." Alex said impassively handing Severus the goblet.  

            Severus cursed himself when he found his hands were still shaking so badly that he couldn't hold the goblet.  The last thing he needed was for this man to see him acting weakly.  Alexander moved forward slightly and took the goblet back before holding it up to Snape's lips.  

"I don't need help…" Severus protested feebly and Alex snorted.

"Shut up, Snape, and drink."  

Which he did, with Alexander watching him with hawk-like eyes, making sure he drank every drop.  When he'd finished Alexander turned away once again and placed the goblet on the a small table.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Severus asked.  "Does he know I'm back?"

"Yes…I informed him immediately that you'd returned.  He said he had some business to attend to, but he would be down later." 

"Do you know where I went?"  Severus' next question was hesitant and he watched Alexander's back tense slightly.

"Would I care where you were?  What you do on your own time is no business of mine, even if it includes getting hit by an unknown curse and a paralysis potion."  Alex's voice had a tremor in it, barely noticeable that no one else would pick up.  But Severus did.  He frowned to himself as  Alexander walked to the fire, not looking at Severus, and stared into it.

"I can get rid of that bruise for you…" Severus said quietly.  

Alexander waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.  "I can take care of it myself."  

Severus turned on his side, still shivering, from what he wasn't sure.  He froze when something heavy draped over him.  Alexander had summoned an extra blanket.  "I'm not cold." Severus complained.  

"We aren't sure how that curse combined with the potion will effect your body's homeostasis.  Therefore, we need to keep you as warm as possible, whether you think you need it or not.  Understand, Snape?" Alexander explained without turning around.  

"Did you train to be a Healer in school?"  Snape asked.

Alexander snorted again.  "Healer?  Gryffindor extraordinaire?  No.  Besides, everyone knows only Hufflepuffs wind up being Healers.  They are the only ones with the patience to deal with obstinate patients."

"Yet you're managing fine with me."  

"You have no idea," Alex laughed shortly, "how difficult it is to keep myself from finishing the job Voldemort started."

"What?" Severus' voice was almost a roar.  "What do you mean, the job Voldemort started?  How do you even know I was anywhere near Voldemort this evening?"

Alexander's head bowed slightly and Severus could see him fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.  

"Weasley!" Severus snarled dangerously, and prepared to jump out of the bed.  It was only then he noticed he was naked as the day he was born under the covers.  "Where are my _robes?_" He demanded.  Alexander pointed in a general direction without looking around.  Severus summoned the now cleaned robes and pulled them on, muttering the entire time to himself.  He then stomped up to the fire where Alexander was still staring at the flames.  "What do you know about tonight?" Severus asked, barely restraining the fury in his voice.  

"I may have…overheard some of your conversation with Dumbledore before you left."  Alexander said quietly.  

Snape grabbed his arm, forcing Alex to face him.  "What did you hear, exactly?"  

"I _heard,_" Alexander gritted, wrenching his arm out of Snape's grasp and looking at him defiantly, "enough to tell me where you were going."

"What _else_ did you hear?" Snape asked, moving his face in close to the smaller wizard's.  

"Nothing of any importance." Alex said coldly, not backing down a fraction of an inch.  

Severus moved back, his expression like someone who'd just been slapped.  "Very well."  His legs started to tremble violently, and in a flash, Alexander had an arm around him, keeping him supported on his feet, and guided him to the bed.  

"You shouldn't be on your feet for too long." Alexander said impassively, letting Severus slump down on his own.  

"Why are you doing this if you want to kill me so terribly?" Severus asked.  

"Eye for eye." Alexander said shortly, "Now who's the deliverer?"  There was an odd glint in the normally deadened eyes that made Severus shudder a bit. 

"You know you didn't have to…"

Alexander scowled unpleasantly.  "I may not have _had_ to, but I did.  Now I'm free of debt.  I no longer owe you anything."

"I never said you owed me anything in the first place, Weasley." Severus said in a slightly confused voice.  He watched Alexander's frown deepen even further, his eyes hidden in shadow.

"Wizard life bond, Snape.  You saved my life.  No matter how much I hated the fact, it created a bond between us that could only be repaid by my saving you.  And I have.  The bond no longer exists."

"Then _why_ are you still here?" Severus growled turning on his side so he wasn't facing Alexander.  

"Good point," came the soft reply and then nothing but the sound of the door shutting behind him broke the silence.  

A/N: Thanks for the review Elspeth!  You were right about the Princess Bride thing, and I've changed it, so it's all good now  ^_^.  There may be some slash, though Alexander doesn't seem to open to a relationship at the moment, does he?  **evil grin**  

And yes, "Omae o korosu" means I will kill you.  I love Heero Yuy, as well as Gundam Wing itself, though personally I wouldn't mind "glomping" Duo Maxwell…hehe… ^_^ He


	20. Spells Gone Wrong

Chapter 21:  Spells Gone Wrong

            Harry opened his eyes slowly.  His head was throbbing painfully, but it wasn't any pain caused by his scar, so he wasn't unduly worried.  He'd dealt with pain worse than this before and wasn't about to let a headache bother him too much.  

            He sat up slowly, reaching for and putting on his glasses, bringing the world back into focus.  He was seated on a very clean, white bed, with a green curtain surrounding it, and he realized exactly where he was.  Goodness knows he'd been here often enough in the past.  The Infirmary.  Which meant something pretty bad must have happened to him.  

            "Oh, bugger," Harry, muttered, rubbing his forehead tiredly as the events of the past evening replayed themselves in his mind.  

After the most _interesting _scene at dinner, which ended with Burdock, Lupin, _and Snape running out of the Great Hall, Harry and Ron had speculated with on what had happened between the three professors.  _

            "I suppose Burdock couldn't stand being around Snape during mealtimes.  I mean, could you?  Imagine having to sit so close to him while eating," Ron shuddered, "it's enough to put me off of food for weeks."

            "I doubt that," Harry teased.

            Ron shrugged, laughing good-naturedly and taking a big bite out of his treacle tart, "You're probably right.  Anyway, what'd you think of Burdock?"

            "He gave me the creeps," Ginny butted in.

            "Yeah," Fred joined the conversation, "I mean, did you see his eyes?  They were all dark and flat, and he wouldn't smile or anything."

            "I bet we could make him smile," George grinned evilly, "another perfect opportunity to test our Weasley Wizard Wheezes products, eh?"

            "I don't know," Ron said, frowning doubtfully, "He doesn't seem the kind of chap who would enjoy being the object of a practical joke."

            "Come on, Ronnie-kins," Fred said playfully, "don't tell me you'd pass up the chance to have a bit of fun."

            "You'd better be careful," George said in a mock threatening tone, "you might end up like Percy.  Goodness knows we don't need two of _him running around."_

            "Could you imagine that?" Fred held a hand up to his forehead, pretending to faint, while Harry hummed the tune from the Twilight Zone.  Everyone looked at him like he'd grown another head, except for the Ravenclaw girl who started to laugh.  Harry glanced at her in surprise and she blushed slightly, looking away.

            "Anyway," Ron said determinedly, "I can't even begin to imagine what it'll be like with him as a Professor."

            Harry shrugged.  "I don't know.  We've had so many different ones, I don't know what the next one will act like."

            "I swear Moody was obsessive compulsive." Fred muttered, "He just always had to yell 'Constant vigilance' in class.  What was the record, George?"

            George pretended to scrutinize a parchment, "About a total of 20 in one class, I do believe."  

            Harry looked down at his plate.  The last school year was still very fresh in his mind, as well as the attempt on his life made by Professor Mad-Eye Moody, who was none other than Bartemius Crouch, Jr., one of Voldemort's most avid supporters.  Or at least when he'd been alive.  Harry dreaded to think what it must have been like in Crouch's last minutes to see the dementor leaning over to deliver its "kiss."  During his third year, when Sirius had managed to escape from Azkaban, Harry'd almost received the Kiss from a group of dementors patrolling the Hogwarts grounds.  He'd been saved by a very well _timed Patronus, and had gone on to help Sirius escape from the dementors as well.  _

            The rest of dinner passed somewhat uneventfully, though Ron couldn't seem to stop talking about the new professor.  At the end, when the last morsels of dessert had been wiped clean from the golden plates, Dumbledore had stood and announced, "Since there are several important people missing from the table now, we shall do the Secret Santa drawing tomorrow evening instead of today as planned.  But for now, the hour is late, and I'm sure all of your beds are beckoning.  We must not keep them waiting.  Good night!  Sleep tight!"    

            There was a chorus of good nights as they left the table and walked out to the main hall.  Harry had frozen when he heard the derogatively drawling voice behind him.

            "Well, well, I certainly wouldn't want Weasley as my Secret Santa.  I would be afraid he couldn't afford anything more than what he can find in a garbage heap, if that even."  

            Both Harry and Ron whirled around, Harry having to grab on to Ron's robes to prevent him from strangulating Malfoy.  "Sod off, Malfoy," Harry used his customary greeting for the Slytherin.  

            The pale boy sneered, his lip curling.  "Maybe someone will get you something special, Potter.  Perhaps a small amount of well-placed hemlock in your pumpkin juice.  Isn't that just the thing for martyrs?"  

            "What would you know about standing up for what you believe in, ferret?" Ron spat.  

            Harry tugged on his robes.  "Come on Ron, let's just go."  

            "What's the hurry, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, "Afraid something might come up you don't want others to find out about?  Like how you nearly _fainted in the presence of the Dark Lord?  Or how about how you __ran away the first chance you got?"  _

            Harry released Ron's robes and stepped forward so he and Draco were barely two feet apart.  "All right, Malfoy.  You started something.  Let's finish it right here, right now."

            Draco yawned exaggeratedly.  "Oh, I don't know.  It seems like such a waste of time…"

            "What, is the great Draco Malfoy scared?  You think he's going to kick your ass, don't you?" Ron jeered.  

            "Stay out of this, _Weasel." Draco gritted, looking around Harry to where Ron stood his arms folded._

            "So, Malfoy," Harry said, staring directly into Draco's eyes, "how about it?  You want your actions to match your words, or do you want to be the same cowardly snake you've always been?"

            Malfoy's gray eyes darkened dangerously. "I am not a coward."  He backed away slightly from Harry and pulled out his wand.  

            Harry did the same, thinking quickly through every curse he knew.  The two boys stood there for what seemed like long minutes, burning eyes trained carefully on each other.  Suddenly the unspoken moment arrived and both shouted out their spells as exactly the same time.

            "_Deputo odorus!"(1)_

            "_Adstringo!"(2)_

            The flashes of green and gold light hit each other and exploded into brilliance.  Harry had felt like a small truck had hit him before he had fallen to the floor out cold.

Harry stood to go find the bathroom and saw another bed was occupied.  For a second he felt worried Ron might have been hit by the collision of the two spells as well, and he rushed over to peer through the bed curtains.  However, it was a mass of silvery blonde hair that lay on the pillow, not his friend's familiar carrot colored mop.  

            _Malfoy…Harry smiled to himself in triumph.  __Good, at least he got some of what he deserved.  He fought back an annoying whisper of guilt nagging at the back of his mind at the sight of Draco's pale face.  __He's a good-for-nothing git, Potter, and you know it.  So don't you dare feel sorry for him.  Making up his mind, Harry let the curtains fall back and trudged over to the bathroom.  _

            When he'd finished there, Harry climbed back into bed, wondering briefly where Madam Pomfrey was.  Then it struck him.  He had regained some consciousness during the middle of the night and heard some voices near his bed.  At first he'd thought it was a dream and listened distantly.  Words like 'very sick', 'can't leave', and 'curse' circled him slowly, and it was only when he heard Dumbledore's name did he realize he was awake and focus more intently on what was happening.

            "You'll have to leave him here and go get Professor Dumbledore," Pomfrey's voice was commanding, "It's really the best place for me to take care of him."

            "But there are two students here, Madam Pomfrey," another voice he didn't recognize right away, but it sounded slightly hoarse and defiant, "and I don't want them to see him like this, just as I'm sure he wouldn't."

            "Professor Burdock," Pomfrey said icily, and Harry realized just whom it was she was talking to, "it doesn't matter what he wants.  He is very sick and needs to be taken care of immediately."

            "Of course, in his own chambers, safe from prying eyes and the gossip mill," Burdock rejoined,  "Now, if you could tell me where his rooms are, I would be much obliged."

            "Professor Burdock, I…"

            "He's _dying, Madam Pomfrey," Burdock's voice was so harsh and cold, it almost sounded as if he was trying to cover something up with it, "and every second you stand there not telling me where his rooms are he moves closer to death.  Just tell me where I can take him, and then go let Professor Dumbledore what has happened."_

            "Very well," Pomfrey sound ruffled and he heard Burdock sigh with impatience, "Just use the Floo to get there.  I'll be down soon to see what I can do.  Until then, just keep him covered and warm, all right?"

            "Yes, thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Burdock replied before there was a roar of fire indicated he just left the room.  Pomfrey bustled out of the room as well, and Harry slipped slowly back into his restless sleep. 

            Now, as he thought back to it, Harry wondered whom it was that Burdock had brought to the Infirmary.  He felt a rush of dread at the thought it might have been Lupin.  _Did something happen to him?  It could have actually been anyone…Snape, even.  He pushed that thought away.  It couldn't have been Snape.  Besides, why would Burdock try to help Snape?  It was obvious he didn't care for the Potions professor and the feelings were apparently mutual, if the way they acted at dinner the night before was any indication.  _

            Harry didn't think about it any more as Pomfrey finally walked into the room and immediately approached his bed with a spoonful of some vile tasting potion or other.  

            "Well, Mr. Potter," she clucked as he forced himself to swallow the bitter liquid and feeling the headache subside somewhat, "I hope you're feeling proud of yourself today.  I would have thought a young man such as yourself would have more sense than to go around starting fights in the hallways."  

            Harry shrugged, finding somewhere the grace to look guilty.  

She clucked again, and pulled the blankets tight around his neck.  "Now, you will stay here until that headache is _completely gone, and I mean completely, do you understand me, young man?"  _

He nodded obediently, feeling suddenly very tired.  As Pomfrey moved over to Malfoy's bed Harry leaned back into his pillow, drifting slowly back to sleep.

(1)  Latin, meaning, I guess, to cut off a nose.  

(2)  Latin again, meaning to bind a person.  I  don't know Latin very well, I just found these things in a dictionary, and thought they would seem like cool curses.  And I am not going to say who said which curse…it makes it so much more fun when you guess, doesn't it?

A/N:  Of course you should feel validated, Elspeth, because I'm guessing you're a real person.  Oh, wait, did you mean as a reviewer?  Just kidding, I knew what you meant.  ^_~  

I got a very sad review…someone didn't finish reading my fic because my character is someone _I've created and not someone from the series already.  Alex isn't a Mary Sue is he?  **tear drop**  Please, do you think I need to warn people that he isn't someone from the HP books?  I think it would nullify the mystery behind the first, oh, 6 chapters, as well as the intrigue of the rest of the story, don't you?  I mean, we don't even know what gender the prisoner is until Percy goes to the trial.  **sniffle**  I hope I didn't work this hard on creating someone with so much depth, only to find out he's the quandary of fan fiction authors everywhere.  Darn Mary Sues… _

Okay, no more whining from me, and thanks to all of you who like _original, __non-Mary Sue characters and have given me great reviews! ^_^  _


	21. Library Detentions and Christmas Cheer

Chapter 22:  Library Detentions and Christmas Cheer  

            The rest of the week passed rather uneventfully at the castle, unless Fred and George's attempts at startling the mysterious new professor at every turn counted as being an uproar (though the Filibuster Fireworks in Burdock's split pea soup did cause a bit of a stir, even if the man merely blinked and muttered something about colorful food).  Harry had managed to escape the clutches of Madam Pomfrey, convincing her that he was able to walk about on his own without assistance.  Draco didn't leave until two days after the incident, and Harry assumed he was milking his injuries for everything they were worth.  In fact, Harry was surprised that Lucius Malfoy hadn't shown up at the school, ranting and raving about the mistreatment of his precious baby boy, though he had a sneaking suspicion that word of what had really happened hadn't gotten to the Malfoys.  

            Secret Santa's had been pulled, and needless to say, Harry was not so pleased with his selection.  He adamantly refused to give Ron the slightest hint of who it was, even though Ron had told him immediately that he had gotten the third year Ravenclaw girl, Pamela Mortensen.  

            "Come on, Harry," Ron pleaded, "One hint?  A letter of the first name?  Last name?  Please?  I told you!  It's only fair that you tell me."  

But Harry simply shook his head stubbornly.  "You'll find out at the end of this week, along with everyone else."  

"It's not me, is it? Because if it is, I can tell you what I want for Christmas."  Ron said hopefully.

"Nope, it's not you.  And besides, I already have your present." Harry said pointedly, trying to end this conversation.  

"Okay then, who is it?"  Ron persisted.

"No, Ron.  Just let it go.  Let's play some chess, okay?" Harry supplied, knowing that Ron's favorite game would take his mind off of pestering Harry for information.  In truth, Harry was curious about who had gotten him.  _Please don't let it be Snape._  He shuddered at the thought of what the dour Potions Master might give him as a Christmas present.  An image of dark eyes glittering evilly down at him over a malicious smile, as the smooth voice said happily, 'Rest of the year in detention with Filch.  Merry Christmas, Potter,' jumped unbidden into Harry's mind, causing him to shiver again.  _No thank you.  I think I'll pass on _that_, Professor._  

Actually, Harry wondered why neither he nor Draco had received any kind of punishment for causing a fight in the hallway.  Or, he wondered until after lunch one day when Dumbledore pulled both he and Malfoy to the side.

"Now, you two," he started, and Harry felt his heart plummet.  From the look on Malfoy's face, he was experiencing the same thing as well.  Dumbledore chuckled slightly.  "Don't act as if I'm about to sign for your execution, boys.  However, I must designate some kind of detention for fighting on school grounds.  I have already spoken to Professor Burdock, who has so graciously accepted your help in the setting up of his syllabus.  That entails spending a few hours in the library each day with the Professor until he has finished preparing for the upcoming semester.  Is that acceptable?"

Harry nodded in agreement.  That wasn't too bad of a punishment.  Spending time in the library was far better than cleaning out the Infirmary chamber pots without magic, even if it did mean having to help out a professor who was kind of creepy.  _Kind of creepy is putting it mildly, Potter, and you know it.  The truth is the guy's scarier than Mad Eye Moody.  Well, at least he hasn't been throwing around curses at every opportunity and attacking suspicious shadows._  Malfoy nodded as well, despite the glower on his face, and Dumbledore's own face broke into a wide smile, his blue eyes sparkling as merrily as ever.  

"Wonderful!  Glad that's settled then.  Now, if you just go over and have a word with Professor Burdock, he'll let you know when he wants you to be in the library.  Very good, off you go."  

Burdock, on the other hand had been slightly less jovial about Harry and Draco joining him in the library.  "Meet me there after lunch.  I won't keep you too long; personally I prefer to conduct research on my own." He said brusquely before waving them away.  

Draco rolled his eyes slightly as they walked away from the reclusive professor.  "That man's worse than Snape." 

Harry cast a surprised glance at his "enemy."  Draco snorted.  "Don't give me that look, Potter.  What the hell does it matter what I think of Snape, anyway?  He'll just keep giving Slytherin points and turning a blind eye to our _misdeeds_ no matter what I might say about him."  With that Draco sauntered off, leaving a somewhat confused Harry.  

The week settled into almost a routine for Harry.  Up every morning for breakfast, and then, depending on the weather, a quick flight around the Quidditch field with Ron or a game of chess in front of the common room fire, then lunch, and then to the library for a couple of hours, where he and Draco spent most of their time lugging large volumes up and down the aisles to Professor Burdock.  To tell the truth, Harry couldn't even begin to guess what the silent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had planned for them.  He had Harry and Draco bring him books on everything from how to cure simple boil curses, to how to fight off Lethifolds. [1]  He even had Harry dig up an old parchment on the uses of Muggle floor wax (which included protecting the house from Runespoors[2], while at the same time giving the rooms a lovely pine scent.)  

They rarely talked, and except for when Burdock pointed out what he wanted to have brought to him, the two-hour library sessions usually passed by in a relatively companionable silence.   Even Draco seemed to settle comfortably into the silence, only trying to start an argument with Harry once during the first session, a scuffle which had been efficiently quelled by Burdock's dark glare at the two boys, who looked down at the ground and went about what they were supposed to be doing.  

            The Friday before Christmas, Harry found the nerve somehow to ask Burdock a question.

            "Er…Professor?"  He twisted the folds of his school robes nervously.  Draco looked up from the book he'd been perusing (_Arthur Jensen's 100 Tips on How to Impress Your Friends and Embarrass Your Enemies_), his gray eyes puzzled at the sight of Harry approaching the thus far unapproachable Burdock.  Burdock stopped his writing and looked up at Harry as well, though his expression was unreadable.  

            "Yes, what is it, Potter?"  His voice was as easy to read as his voice, and Harry swallowed hard.  

            "I…was…er…I was wondering if tomorrow…" Harry stammered, cursing himself for not being able to speak in a full, coherent sentence.  Burdock merely arched an eyebrow in a way reminiscent of Snape, and Harry swallowed hard.  _This isn't making it any easier, him acting so much like Snape…_  "I was thinking, that, since tomorrow's Christmas Eve, if we are going to need to come back to the library…"  

            Draco snorted and returned his gaze to his book.  Burdock raised both eyebrows this time.  "Of course not, Potter.  It is Christmas, and I certainly am not Scrooge," This time it was Harry's turn to raise his eyebrows at the mention of the Muggle character, but Burdock ignored that and continued, "I do believe Headmaster Dumbledore has planned some sort of expedition into Hogsmeade for those who wish to do a bit of last minute shopping.  You are freed from your detention duties by 2 o'clock this afternoon."  With that, Burdock looked back down at his parchment, barely acknowledging Harry's stammered 'Thank you,' and continued writing.  

            The next day, Harry and Ron waited in the Main Hall with Fred, George, and Ginny for the rest of the group going into Hogsmeade to join them.  They were bundled up in their winter robes and scarves, chattering eagerly about what they planned to buy in town.  Fred and George were, of course, going to visit their favorite joke shop.  

            "We've got to come up with some new ideas to get this Burdock chap." Fred explained.

            "Yeah, if anyone needs some Christmas cheer, it's Burdock." George said with an evil grin.  Harry groaned inwardly, deciding he didn't want to know what sort of Christmas cheer the twins had in store for the silent professor.  

            "Well, I want to visit the robe shop.  I need to have my hems let out a bit." Ron explained.  Harry looked up at his best friend who now towered about five inches higher than he.  It seemed Harry was to forever remain short, unless, by some miracle, he was hit by the same growth spurt that plagued his redheaded friend.  

            "Now, you see, _I_ would get new robes.  But, wait a minute, you probably couldn't afford those, could you, _Weasel_?" The sound of a new voice caused them to turn their heads and see Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle (of course) emerging from the stairs leading to the dungeons.  Ron growled something undecipherable, and Harry rolled his eyes.  _Not again._  

            "Hey, Weasley, don't that many patches in one set of robes negate their purpose of protection against the elements?" Draco continued.  Ron seemed about to move forward when the doors to the Hall opened, allowing a blast of cold air to hit everyone inside.  Ginny jumped back, hiding behind the twins and wrapping her arms around her against the cold.  Everyone looked to see who had interrupted the almost fight.  

            "Percy?" Ron was the first to speak, "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

[1] Lethifolds can be found in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

[2]  Runespoors can also be found in FBWFT (I love that book!)  And, it's not really mentioned if floor wax is used to protect houses against them, it's just something I made up.  Let's call it artistic license, okay?  ^_^

A/N:  Hey everyone, it seems I am still alive and breathing out here!  Yep.  It's amazing.  Anywho, I feel really bad for not having posted sooner than this, things just happened here.  Let's just say the defecation hit the ventilation all at once and leave it at that.  But, besides that, here we go, another chapter.  (And there was much rejoicing.  yaaay…)  I guess it wasn't much of a surprise that Percy showed up…but what the hey, right?  Okay, so sorry about the looooong wait, and the not so much appearance of Snapey in the past chapter (he'll be showing up soon, no worries!).  And yes, I do know that I didn't actually say who is Harry's Secret Santa.  But, here's a secret…it's a surprise!  Mwahaha!  Hope you enjoyed, and hope to have another chapter up soon.  Don't worry, I haven't given up on this!        


	22. Happy Christmas and all that, Snape

Chapter 23: Happy Christmas and all that, Snape.

Percy blinked at his younger brother from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, his cheeks bright red from the cold wind, his normally perfectly wavy hair blown into undignified tufts. "Is that any way to greet your older brother, Ron?" He asked in what was meant to be mock severity, but came out in his usual pretentious tone making him cringe on the inside.

Ron frowned and muttered, while George and Fred bounded over to their brother, pounding him heartily on the back, causing him to drop the worn carpetbag he was carrying, and messing up his hair even further.

"Percy! Great to see you, old chap!" Fred gushed.

"Indeed! It's simply smashing you could make it, dear brother! Tell us, how go your reports on the unraveling flying carpets? Or was it the properties of cabbages and their influence on the British wizard economy?" George piped up, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

Coughing slightly, Percy managed to disengage himself from their "affections" giving each a severe glare. "Actually, I am taking some time off to visit my brothers and sister during Christmas."

"Did you say you're taking time off? Good heavens! That's it, where are the flying pigs and someone take a look outside and see if the sky's green." George exclaimed while Fred collapsed to the floor in a faint, an arm thrown across his forehead dramatically. Ron and Harry laughed, Ginny just shook her head, and Percy rolled his eyes heavenward as if searching for patience.

"Anyway, I must first go speak to Dumbledore. Is he around?"

"Yeah, I think he is." Harry managed to say above the laughter.

"Thank you, Harry." Percy said solemnly before casting his still laughing siblings a glare and walking in the direction of the Headmaster's office.

The four remaining Weasley's looked at each other in slight shock.

"That was interesting." Ginny finally said.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "I don't understand why he would want to visit us. I thought he would have been working all through vacation. Hell, that's what he's done all his life."

"Maybe he's just doing the brotherly thing," Harry said in a somewhat wistful voice. Truthfully, he felt a spark of jealousy that Percy cared enough about his family to take a break from the thing he cherished so much to visit them at Hogwarts. He felt like that was the type of thing he'd want to have a sibling do for him, if he'd ever had one. However, the Weasleys were the closest thing to a family he had, other than the Dursleys and Sirius, but then again, the Dursleys never cared a bit for him, and Sirius, as much as Harry knew his Godfather loved him, it was impossible for Sirius to be around him constantly.

"Oh well. Hey, let's get moving! Time for Hogsmeade!" Fred said enthusiastically, running out the front door and the others followed quickly.

Alex was standing at his window again, watching the small procession of students as they made their way to the town of Hogsmeade. A ghost of a smile flitted across his face as he remembered his own time spent in Hogsmeade, stocking up on sweets from Honeydukes and pranks from Zonko's, and sipping on butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. _I bet the twins are going to do some stocking up of their own at Zonko's. I had better keep a watch out for any little surprises they may have in store._ It had taken all of his self-control not to whip out his wand and throw every curse he knew when a bucket of freezing cold water fell on him in the middle of the hallway one day. As Peeves had been nowhere in sight, he could only assume it had been the only two other people capable of such classic practical jokes.

There came a knock on the door, pulling him out of his musings. Without turning around to see whom it was, he simply called out, "Come in."

"Professor Dumbledore told me you would be here." The voice caused Alex to spin around in surprise. Percy stood there, a nervous smile on his face.

"Hello, Percy." Alex allowed a small smile to peek out, his voice as reassuring as he could make it. Percy's smile widened some more, and Alex moved forward, extending his hand, which Percy accepted and shook.

"I trust getting here wasn't too much trouble." Alex said.

"Oh, no trouble at all. I explained the situation to the Minister of Magic." Alex froze at these words, his eyes widening in slight fear. Percy, realizing his mistake quickly stammered out, "That my parents were out of town and I felt it to be my duty to visit them over the holidays." Alex let out a small breath of relief, the corners of his mouth once again twitching into something that could possibly be called a smile.

"Of course, Percy, please forgive me for underestimating you."

"I understand perfectly why you would be worried. But trust me Alex, I would be the last person to want to cause you any harm, inadvertently or otherwise." Percy took a step back, his eyes sweeping over the room. "It seems you've settled in nicely here." He commented lightly.

Alexander shrugged. "It's not to be my permanent room. I'll be moving into Professor Lupin's old chambers on Monday." The werewolf professor had left for Romania the day before, and Alex was still pondering Lupin's parting words, 'It is a strange thing. You spend all your life hiding yourself from people, and suddenly you find yourself among strangers who've all done the same thing.' He knew Remus was referring to himself, of course, and he wondered if perhaps the werewolf realized that his constant rejection by society was something experienced by almost everyone at one time or other. Alex thought that could possibly be it, or if Remus were referring to him, the once convict who'd been forced to hide himself behind stony walls, and who now really didn't know how to act among those strangers…

Alex shook himself from his thoughts and faced his cousin. "Well, have you unpacked already?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore was kind enough to provide me with an extra room." Percy said, nodding his head slightly.

"I should well hope he did, as you are a guest here." Alex gave a dry chuckle, "As you have already settled, how do you feel about paying a visit to Hogsmeade? I have one last Christmas present to pick up."

"Sounds like a good plan." Percy said in what hoped was an enthusiastic voice, "Perhaps we could stop by the Three Broomsticks and get some butterbeer."

"Now _that's_ something I've longed for since I've gotten here," Alex said longingly as he swept his cloak over his shoulders, "One of Rosemerta's marvelous butterbeers. There's nothing quite like them."

"Hey, Ron, isn't that Percy?" Harry asked pointing out his friend's brother across the Three Broomsticks. Ron followed his finger, his jaw dropping at the sight.

"No way. Percy never went into Hogsmeade when he was in school. _And_ he's with…_Burdock?!_" Harry wanted to laugh at Ron's imitation of a fish as his mouth opened and closed rapidly.

"That is so weird." Ron finally sputtered, never tearing his eyes away from the two figures.

"I don't see what's so strange about it." Ginny stated, "They probably just met in town and decided to have a drink or something."

"Are you implying our brother's g…g…" Ron stuttered.

"Gay, Ron?" Ginny helped, looking him straight in the eye. When he nodded, she continued. "No, I am not implying that he is gay just because he's having a drink with another man. Besides, I thought that's what all you guys did in some peculiar form of male bonding."

"Not true!" Ron protested, "We _don't_ bond by going to a bar together…_alone_…and having a drink…that's what you do on a _date_."

"Oh come on, Ron, are you honestly saying that if _I_ weren't here, you wouldn't come have just come and had a drink with Harry instead?" Ginny asked, her voice now traced with irritation.

Ron looked uncomfortable. "Erm…well…if you put it that way…oh, come on, Harry and I have been friends for years! No one would ever suspect us of being…well, you know…"

"So, you're saying that because Professor Burdock and Percy haven't been friends for years they shouldn't be seen having a drink alone together?" Ginny said incredulously. When Ron nodded, she snorted. "Ron, that's absolutely ridiculous. I never knew you were so homophobic."

"I am not!" Ron declared stoutly. He turned to Harry, "You don't think it a bit odd for two men to suddenly show up at a bar together…and sit the way they are sitting…" he pointedly emphatically at where said men were sitting across the room, each leaning forward over their butterbeers in deep conversation, "You would say that none of that looks even remotely close to a date?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably as his two best friends stared at him. "Erm…" He glanced at the two men, "Well, you have to admit, it is kind of surprising for Percy to have come to Hogsmeade at all, especially with someone he hardly knows, I mean, someone no one actually really knows. And they do seem to be leaning in pretty close…but that could be because of all the noise in here, and they just are doing it so they can hear each other better. Honestly, I wouldn't have thought anything of it if you hadn't mentioned it, Ron." Harry watched his friends' respective reactions. Ginny smiled, obviously pleased with the answer, while Ron's face turned its characteristic redness; though from embarrassment or anger, Harry couldn't really tell.

"Fine, point taken." Ron muttered into his butterbeer.

"Wonder what they're talking about that's so interesting?" Ginny pondered aloud.

"Here, this should help," Ron announced proudly, pulling a long, flesh colored string from his pocket.

"Ron! I thought Mum had made Fred and George get rid of all those!" Ginny said, thrilled.

Ron chuckled. "Yes, she made _Fred and George_ get rid of all their Extendable Ears. But she never thought that the rest of us might have had them. George gave me the ones he managed to hide for safekeeping."

"Well, don't hog them, give me one!" Ginny demanded. Ron tossed her one, before sticking the end of another into his ear and letting the other end drop to the floor.

"Hey, do you have another one?" Harry asked. Ron pulled one more out and handed one to Harry. Ginny pulled out a rather heavy looking book she brought with her and put it on the table, and all three leaned in, pretending to look at it, while they actually focused to the conversation from across the room that now flowed into their ears as clearly as if the two older men were sitting at the same table.

"Well, Percy, I'm sure there are many questions you want to ask me. I know I have quite a few to ask you." Alexander said.

Percy shifted forward. "How much is there that I can say while we're here?" He looked around at the bustling bar pointedly.

"Call me Professor Burdock, keep all sentences suitable for the situation. There may be some prying ears as I'm sure we're quite the odd couple and naturally cause some curiosity." Alex felt terrible having to be so brusque with the only relative he had who knew he even existed. But Percy didn't seem offended. He merely nodded.

"Right. Well, for one how long are you going to be teaching here?"

"I honestly don't know. Truthfully, I would rather it would be as short a time as possible. I don't wish to cause any inconvenience for Professor Dumbledore. He's really been more generous than I remember anyone being towards me…" Alex pushed away the image of Snape carrying him home after his collapse near the ocean, "and I owe him more than putting him in danger."

"But Professor Dumbledore is a powerful wizard," Percy protested, "He's more than capable of protecting himself and you at the same time. Look at the hundreds of students he manages to defend each year…and they don't even realize it. I know I didn't when I was still going here. I doubt that even his own professors realize just how much Dumbledore manages to fend off…of course there were a few incidents, but those were due to his inability to foresee them, and he's definitely not a Seer or mind-reader."

"Very true…though I have suspected him of being a mind-reader from time to time." Alex said a smile ghosting across his face, "But I've come to realize that there is much people can give away by their expressions alone. Dumbledore is no mind reader: just a very shrewd man with a sharp eye. In any case, I must ask about the family. How are they doing? What are they doing?"

"Well, as you can see, Ron, Ginny, George and Fred are all attending Hogwarts. Ron is a prefect this year, and I can tell you, Mother is bursting with pride. That makes four prefects from the family now. Maybe he'll be made Headboy as well. I certainly hope so. Then there would be three Headboys from the family. Fred and George haven't been made prefects or anything like that. They're too busy with Quidditch and setting up that Weasley Wizarding Wheezes shop of theirs. I must admit, though it's not a very practical route to take, they seem to be doing quite well with their recent products. A word to the wise, do not accept any sweets they may offer. A Canary Crème caught me last year over Christmas Holiday. I was molting until May." He smiled a bit, despite his attempt to look disapproving and Alex let out a short bark of laughter.

"That must have been quite a sight to see." Alex realized with a start that he was feeling more relaxed conversing with Percy over butterbeers than he had felt since he'd left Azkaban.

"Yes, well, Mother has been trying to put a stop to that for quite some time now, though with little luck. They always manage to find ways around her, and of course being at Hogwarts gives them an ample opportunity to test and sell their latest goods. They have quite a black market among the students. Thankfully none of what they make is really harmful. Now, let me see…there are Bill and Charlie, both off in different countries. Charlie's in Romania working with dragons. Last year he brought four dragons he'd raised personally to the Triwizard Tournament. He is absolutely in love with the scaly things and is working to get a law passed with Ministry of Magic that will expand the limited space allowed for the dragon preserves. I personally think he would be able to get it, that is, if Professor Dumbledore were the Minister of Magic. However, with Minister Fudge being the one who makes the decision, I'm afraid it's a bit of a toss up, really."

"Fudge deserves to be set loose wandless in one of those dragon preserves." Alex gritted.

Percy looked down at the tabletop. "I'm sorry about the way he treated you. I remember when we visited…well, I remember that he hit you."

"It was probably a good thing he did, otherwise you two could have left and I wouldn't have realized it or remembered to give you that message. I wasn't really…in the right state of mind at that point, as I'm sure you are aware." Alex shuddered slightly at the memory of crouching on a filthy stone floor.

"I would have stopped him. In fact, I should have stopped him." Percy sounded guilty, "but I must admit I was slightly in awe of the man. No, not slightly. I was tremendously in awe of him. I thought that I wanted nothing more than to be as powerful as him. But now I know that power does not come from status alone…though it certainly does help."

"Percy, I don't blame you for not stopping him. Goodness knows if I were in your shoes, in that particular situation, I would have done nothing. I would only be thinking about how quickly I'd want to get out of there. Is Mister Fudge still as disbelieving?"

Percy nodded sadly. He knew exactly what Alex was referring to.

"Damn him." Alex hissed, running a hand across his face in a tired motion. "So many innocents gone…they had done nothing to deserve such a horrible end…" He stopped himself before he could give any more away.

"Well, I suppose all we can do now is depend on Dumbledore?" Percy asked hopefully.

Alex nodded. "Truly, without Dumbledore we'd be lost. Well, we can discuss that further at another time. Right now, I would like to hear more about you and what has been happening."

"Oh, right. I almost forgot about Bill. He was working as a cursebreaker for Gringott's in Egypt, but he's been transferred to a branch in England. I've heard that he's been giving a few private English lessons to a French girl called Fleur Delacoeur. Rumor is she's part veela and quite striking. She was one of the champions last year at the Triwizard Tournament. I remember her a little bit. Long silver hair, blue eyes. She and Bill seemed to hit it off right away, so I'm not all that surprised that things have progressed. Mother and Father are currently working fairly hard at something I can't mention here. Father is still working at the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. He's absolutely obsessed with Muggles. He thinks they're precious, and is constantly trying to understand how they get on without magic."

"Ah, yes, I remember Un…Arthur's obsession with the Muggle world and everything in it. He used to question me relentlessly. Molly would have to order him to stop so I could get to sleep or eat some food." Alex smiled slightly at the memory, though he was cursing himself for nearly blurting out "Uncle Arthur." He stole a glance over at the table where Ron, Harry, and their other friend sat. They seemed to be rather absorbed in a book placed in the middle of the table. "In any case, tell me more, please. I would like to be fully caught up, before, you know…"

"Of course." Percy smiled then remembered something. "I found something I think you'll be interested in." He pulled a small leather bound book from one of his pockets. "I came across it before coming here. It was hidden in the back corner of our attic. I'll tell you, the family ghoul wasn't too happy with me poking around. Had to fend off some flying piping."

Alex chuckled and opened the book. It turned out to be a scrapbook. On the first page was a picture that made him catch his breath. It was moving, of course, as all wizard pictures do, and it was one of his mother and father holding him in between them when he was only a baby. A dizzying wave of emotion flooded over him, catching him off-guard. "Percy…" His throat seemed to be closed, making words difficult. He tried again. "Percy, thank you…you have no idea how much this means to me…I think I'll look at it more closely when I'm on my own, alright?"

Percy nodded understandingly. "Of course. Well, look at the time, we should get back before it gets too cold and dark. There should be a proper Hogwarts feast waiting for us when we get back. Oh, I meant to ask, whom do you have in mind for that present? It's quite an odd choice of gift, and I'm not sure I can place who it would be for, if it's a professor, I mean."

Alex's ghost smile drifted across his face. "Oh, it's for a professor. And I think it's perfectly suited for the recipient." With that he and Percy stood, placed a handful of sickles on the table to pay for their drinks and walked out the door still chatting quietly.

Harry and Ron stared at each other after the two men had left.

"Well, what do you make of that?" Harry asked pulling the Extendable Ear out and handing it back to Ron.

"Why would Burdock want to know all that about my family? And how come he seems to be so familiar with Percy?" Ron seemed stunned.

"And how does he know Mum and Dad? And why does he think that he's endangering the school? Is there someone after him? And since when did _Percy_ become so open about his family life?" Ginny appeared as lost as her brother.

"Also, why would Cornelius Fudge have visited him and hit him? Remember? It's not really like him to be violent, especially towards another wizard. I mean, he may be a bit close-minded and blustery, but Fudge would never strike anyone. Would he?" Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick out even more haphazardly than usual.

"It's a right mystery, I'll say that." Ginny said.

They sat in silence, each trying to figure out the new puzzle that had been put before them.

That night after dinner Alexander paced his room nervously. He wasn't really sure what he had been thinking when he'd decided on the present for his "Secret Santa" earlier. _Probably nothing.__ Well done, Weasley. You'll be given top marks for this brilliant idea._ The box, which held, said present shook slightly and he watched it dubiously until it stopped moving. _There's really only one thing to do, in order to spare both of us any humiliation tomorrow in front of everyone._ Before he even fully realized what he was doing, he'd picked up the box and walked quickly from his room. Within a few minutes he was standing in front of a door he'd come to know rather well recently. With slight trepidation he raised his hand and knocked softly.

A moment later, much faster than he'd have preferred, the door opened and the person who lived in the room stared at him in slight surprise.

"I decided to bring you your Christmas present early." Alex said without preamble. "I wasn't thinking about getting you a gift at all, but then I pulled your name from the hat and ended up buying you something anyway." He held out the box, but the inhabitant of the room just stared at it before taking a step back.

"Come in."

Alex would rather have simply handed the gift over and returned to the relative safety of his own chambers than walk into that room, but he gritted his teeth and entered.

"Well, Weasley, I never would have suspected you to enjoy that interesting phenomenon called Christmas Cheer." Severus said in his usual snideness.

"Neither would I. Especially as this is the first Christmas I've celebrated in seventeen years." Alex said bitterly. Severus' sneer faded, albeit slightly.

"Poor you." He said, though Alex detected the comment was more of a reaction than actually meant to harm.

"In any case, here's your present. Happy Christmas and all that, Snape." Alex handed him the box. Severus took it slowly, but didn't open it.

"I have a present for you, too, Weasley." He put his box on a small table and walked over to his cupboard. "It was rather difficult to figure out what to get you. Especially as I didn't owe you anything. And what could an ex-convict possibly want?" Alex's breath hissed slightly as he fought to maintain his temper. Severus turned back around, seemingly unaware of anything wrong he'd said, an oddly shaped parcel in his hands. "And I decided that this might best suit you. Took me awhile to find one, though I'm sure I'll regret the time I spent searching for it." He handed it to Alex who held it gingerly, unsure of whether to open it here or wait until he'd returned to his own room. "We can open both of our presents here, if you'd like, Weasley." Severus said as if he'd read his mind. "Have a seat." He gestured to a rather comfy looking leather armchair next to the fire.

Alex sat and waited for Severus to take his own seat. "Open yours first."

"Why?" Severus sounded suspicious. "If this is Weasley Wizard Wheezes product, I'm refusing here and now to even touch this box."

"Pity, and here I thought you would fall for it." Alex said sarcastically, "Just open it, Snape. I promise you, it's not one of Fred and George's little masterpieces. Hell, it's not even from Zonko's."

Severus lifted the box to his lap and pulled off the string. Slowly he inched open the top, as if waiting for something to explode from the box. But all that came from it was an irritated mew, followed by a small black head and pointed ears. Severus stared at it, his gaze met by a pair of unblinking green eyes. "A…kitten." Was all he could say. He looked up at Alex. "What in the world…Weasley, what is this?"

"You said so yourself, Snape. It's a kitten." Alex said, allowing a small grin onto his face. Severus stared at him disbelievingly. "I couldn't think of what to get you, and then this little guy fell right in front of me. Literally. Fell right out of a tree. He's okay though. You know how cats are."

"Why, Weasley?" Severus managed to sound disbelieving and suspicious at the same time.

"Because he's adorable. Because everybody needs something fluffy in their life. Yes, even you and me, Snape." Alex leaned back in his chair, content to watch Snape dubiously pick up the kitten and hold it up as if inspecting it carefully for hidden booby traps. The kitten meowed in complaint and batted at Severus' hand. After careful inspection Severus put the little black ball of fur on the seat next to him, where it promptly attempted to climb into his lap. "I think he likes you." Alex observed amusedly.

"You should open your present." Severus said trying to extract the kitten from his lap, a difficult task considering it had buried its claws deeply into the folds of his robes.

Alex picked up the parcel Severus had handed him and opened it slowly. A glint of gold caught in the firelight and with a gasp he let it fall into his lap where it seemed to glow softly. "A…a time turner…" He barely whispered his throat closing for the second time that day. Severus watched him, his black eyes expressionless. "Why…Snape…when I've done nothing to deserve…how on earth did you manage to get hold of one?"

"Well," Severus said slowly, "I must admit that this is not entirely legal. But through the good graces of Dumbledore and a few of my own connections, I managed to come across one. The Ministry of Magic isn't really aware of its existence, so anything you do with it must be meticulously planned and thought out."

"I could…" Alex swallowed as the true enormity of the present's meaning sunk in, "I could go back…to that night…and…I could change everything…"

"Sadly, for you and the rest of us, Weasley, that's exactly what you _can't_ do." Severus murmured finally dislodging the kitten and walking to the fireplace.

Alex stared at his profile, his haunted eyes beginning to flash with the anger that seemed to be reserved for Severus alone. "What are you talking about? Are you saying that I will just have to sit back and simply watch everything happen again? That my past self will have to relive that _place_ again and again…even though I have the chance to stop that? That my uncle will lose his memory again, and I will have to watch my wife…then why the hell would I _want_ this, Snape? Why? Why torture myself? Even for you, this is a pretty atrocious thing to do to someone, Snape. Why would Dumbledore _allow_ you to…?" Alex wasn't even really aware of what he was saying. His mettle was up, and Snape was the only person in the room to receive the brunt of his anger. He picked up the time turner by its long gold chain and waved it in the air. "I should just throw this thing in the fire! It's no good to me, or to anyone else for that matter. What is the point of having it if I can't change what's happened to me…what's happened to others? I could end Voldemort and finally expose his followers. But I _can't_!"

Suddenly the time turner was snatched from his hand and Snape was leaning down nose to nose with him, his expression one of extreme disgust. "I should have known better than to waste such a gift on a _Weasley_. Especially you. Think about all the damage it could cause if you were to interfere. Things happen for a reason, and knowing this has allowed us to create a successful time turner. Otherwise we would only keep trying to change a past that we couldn't. What is meant to be will happen, whether we would change it or not. It's not for us to decide. I am _sorry_ you went through what you did. But everybody _suffers_ in their lives." Alex gaped at him. It was the first time Severus had shown any sort of sympathy for his time in Azkaban, but it was a hard sympathy, traced with the understanding that his past misery was only a tiny taste of what the entire world endured. And at that moment a realization hit Alex. He and Snape both viewed the world with the same bitter tiredness. Even though Snape had not been through Azkaban, he had undergone a torture nearly as bad. Alex stared speechless as Severus continued. "But instead of trying to change what you can't, why not take a lesson from it? It is possible to return to those days and learn what you were unable to see the first time. And perhaps…_perhaps_, you will become a wiser man from it. It is really entirely up to you. Do you wish to understand? Because if you don't, then be my guest and chuck this thing into the fire or into the lake for all I care." He straightened and held the time turner out to Alex who paused before taking it from him.

He sat for a moment tracing the hourglass thoughtfully before looking up again. "When I go back…will you go with me? I understand not to change anything…I just don't trust myself not to…well you know, I might see something that'll provoke my Gryffindor pride or something horrid like that, and I'll need someone with a cool head to keep me in check. I mean, you're pretty good with those body binds, and that might come in handy…"

Severus stared at him, stunned. "You can't possibly mean that, Weasley. Why would you want _me_ of all people…?" He paused as Alex looked back down at the time turner, seemingly ashamed by his request. "Very well," Alex's head snapped back up, "I'll go with you. You're right, I've seen enough evidence of your Gryffindor pride to not let you go on your own."

"Thank you." They sat for a moment eyes locked in a sort of silent communication, and then it hit Alex. This was the first semi-civil conversation they had had since Snape had helped him out of Azkaban. "I would like to go now, if that's alright."

"Yes, I'm sure you need your beauty rest." Severus sneered with some of his old bite.

Alex shook his head. "No, I mean, I would like to go back to the past tonight. I'm not doing anything, you're not doing anything, so why not?"

"Why, Weasley, it sounds almost like you're trying to ask me out on a date." Severus grinned maliciously.

"No!" Alex felt his cheeks grow warm. _I can still blush…? Wait, why the hell am I blushing anyway?_

"I can understand my not being a desirable date." Severus' tone sounded more bitter than mocking making Alex stare at him. "However, I don't think we should go until you are fully prepared. And that you're absolutely positive you wish to go, without the slightest doubt. Also, we must make sure that you are prepared mentally for what you will see."

Alex closed his eyes, seeing once again the flash of white and then green light in the forest clearing and the high-pitched laughter before darkness encased him. Snape was right, of course. Seeing his wife die with his own two eyes would be a bit much to take unless he was completely ready for it. "Very well." He said. "I will let you know when." He stood and put the time turner on the table beside his chair. "Can I ask you to keep this until I am ready? I don't want to be tempted to go on my own before I should."

"That would be the first common sense you've shown since I met you, Weasley." Severus said derisively.

Alex shrugged. "Well, I think I'll go on up to my room, now. Good night, Severus." He left the room before Severus could say anything.

He stood for a moment staring at the path Alex had taken before whispering, "Good night, Alex…" A sharp pain in his ankle caused him to jump and look down. The black kitten gazed up at him owlishly from where it gripped Severus' ankle with its claws. Snape bent down and picked the kitten up. "Well, I suppose I should think of a name for you." The kitten mewed in seeming agreement. Severus thought for a moment before nodding. "You're a little hunter with those claws of yours. Not many would try to pounce on a wizard from a tree or be so bold against unprotected ankles…you'll be Hunter." The kitten mewed again and Severus gave a tiny bitter smile as a realization hit him. Alex's middle name was Hunter. "How fitting. You really are getting soft, Severus." He sat down in the chair Alex had recently vacated, holding Hunter in his lap. Pensively he stared into the fire while petting the purring kitten. After a few minutes he looked down at the little ball of black fur that kneaded his claws contentedly into Severus' leg. "He's right, I suppose. We all need something fluffy in our lives…too bad my fluffy has claws."

A/N: Hello! Why didn't anyone tell me that I had put Hermione in this, even though I had said she had gone home for the hols? Lazy readers, very bad! And lazy editing on my part. Shame on me. lowers head and toes dirt Well, it's kinda an update…I edited it…and soon there should be a chapter 24. I'm a senior in college, so let's just say that my senior thesis has taken over my life. Bleh.


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